


Gemini

by babybaguette



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Based on season 3A, Mpreg, but also allisaac if you squint, follows the show pretty closely, pregnant!Isaac, scisaac if you squint, slight AU, tw: rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 32,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybaguette/pseuds/babybaguette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Alpha Pack did a little more than rough Isaac up that night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bug

The nausea had started a little while after they'd gone to Deaton's to get his memories of... that night back. The sudden rush of sensations long forgotten, the taste of fear in his mouth, losing feeling in his extremities; Isaac chocked it up to his body rejecting everything recent that had happened. The Alphas had done a bit of a number on his body, after all. Nausea was normal for a shock victim, he told himself. Nothing to worry about, he told himself, it'll be gone in a few days.

But there was a little voice in the back of his mind that told him no, do worry and no, it won't be gone in a few days. Go get help. Get Derek. Get Deaton. Get Scott. Tell someone. But Isaac wouldn't; besides, who would want to hear about his tummy ache when there was a demon wolf on the loose?

But lo and behold, the sickness did not retreat. It didn't even ebb- if anything, it had gotten worse since that night in the icy tub. Isaac had to be careful to not arouse suspicions; he left early in the morning, when he found he was most susceptible to being ill, and stayed away until he was sure the toxic smell of vomit and fear had worn off. At school, he had to tiptoe around Scott's nose that was trained to sniff out sickness. The Alphas were already the prime concern, why bother his pack with anything else?

Unfortunately, it wasn't his pack he needed to be worried about.

"Hey, is everything alright?"

Isaac was leaning against a locker, fighting off a wave of nausea with an accompanying headache, when Allison's concerned voice filled his thoughts. He spun around, one arm still supporting his weight.

"Why do you care?" he retorted rudely. He instantly regretted it, but anything to get her off his back. He turned his face back to the cool metal in hopes that she would go away along with his sickness.

Allison grabbed Isaac's shoulder and forced him to face her. "Hey," she said sternly, "I care because you're my friend, alright?" She gave him a look that a mother might give her son. "Now tell me what's wrong."

Her hand felt strong and reassuring on Isaac's arm and he met her gaze with tired eyes. The voice in the back of his mind told him to go for it; after all, werewolves didn't get sick. He needed someone else to know what was going on. Allison was right; they were friends to an extent. And she could then ask Scott, an aspiring vet, or her father, who knew as much there is know about werewolf lore.

Then the nausea kicked itself up a notch and Isaac had to bend over his stomach to cope. Allison caught him and held him tighter.

"I think," panted Isaac, "I think I'm sick."

__________

The table in Deaton's office was no more comfortable than the tub of ice. It was cold and hard and it was too short for a person to lay on so Isaac's legs swung over the edge. The whole building smelled like other animals and cleaning supplies and it was making Isaac sick again.

As soon as she could, Allison had informed Scott of what Isacc had told her, Scott told Stiles, and Stiles finally passed the information on to Derek, and as soon as school was out, the whole team plus Lydia were headed to Deaton's office. Cora was unable to join them as she was undergoing job hunting and frankly nobody wanted Peter there. The pack sat out in the cramped waiting room while the vet looked Isaac over.

"Now, Isaac, I want you to close your eyes," Deaton lowered his voice to a calm hush, "and I want you to focus on the source of the sickness." Isaac did as he was told and shut his eyes, relaxing his body and doing a mental search for anything out of the ordinary. He started at his head, where there had been headaches for as long as the nausea, then moved to his chest and took deep, trying breaths in and out, then rested at his lower belly, where cramps had been setting in for a couple days.

As he did his search, Isaac reported everything out loud to Deaton, whom he could hear humming in interest. As soon as he mentioned the cramps in his abdomen, Deaton's humming stopped and the vet shifted on his feet. Isaac opened his eyes and saw that the vet was deep in thought.

"What?" the werewolf sat up on his elbows. "Is... is that bad? Are cramps bad?" Because they felt bad. Isaac just wanted to know what was wrong with him, get some medicine, and go home(well, to Derek's home, that the alpha had been so generous in sharing). But Deaton placed a hand on his shoulder and eased him back onto the table.

"For now, I don't know. I'm going to need a closer look." Isaac took a few more deep breaths as the vet lifted his shirt and began pressing his fingers into his hipbones and lower abdomen. He could hear Deaton's heartbeat begin to pound as his fingers worked harder into his tissue.

"Hey," Isaac exclaimed, grabbing Deaton's wrist, "that hurt!" He looked up at the vet who was, to Isaac's concern, looking back at him with a worried expression. Deaton had hit what felt like a soft spot at a low midpoint in-between his hips. A dull throb was still there like a warning.

The silence is the room was tangible as Deaton mentally processed all of the evidence Isaac had voluntarily and involuntarily given him. Isaac let go of the vet's wrist and stayed propped up on his elbows until a cramp panged in his belly and he lay back down.

"I'm going to need some things from you," said Deaton, donning latex gloves and handing Isaac a small plastic cup. "Just to be sure."

After a short trip to the bathroom, Isaac was subjected to more deep-tissue excavations and having blood drawn.

"Scott," Deaton called into the waiting room, "I'm going to need a little help in here."

As the vet and vet-to-be ran different tests, Isaac put his shirt back on and got off the cold table. He leaned against the back wall and wondered what could be wrong with him that Deaton needed to run all these tests.

"Dr. Deaton, I don't understand," Scott was holding a small vial of isaac's blood in one hand and a small white palette in the other, "why are you doing these tests? These are for-"

"Just trust me, Scott," replied Deaton, saturating a sample of the urine with powder and swirling it around. "These are just precautions. If none of them, then it will be for the better."

Isaac shifted on his feet nervously. "Are you guys gonna tell me exactly what kinds of tests you're doing over there?" It was getting late. He just wanted to go back to Derek's and sleep.

Scott looked over at Deaton, who shook his head in a warning. Scott then looked back at his friend and gave him a sympathetic look as if to apologize, then went back to working.

Tuning his hearing out to the waiting room, Isaac could hear Stiles's foot tapping impatiently, Lydia texting, and Allison talking to Derek.

"...Be fine," he heard her say in a comforting tone. "It's just a bug. He'll heal and this'll all be over."

"Werewolves don't get 'bugs'," Derek replied forcefully. Even from the next room, Isaac could hear the anxiety and frustration in his voice. "Never in my life or in my family has anyone ever gotten a 'bug.'" The alpha paused and when he next spoke there was a growl in his voice. "The Alpha pack did this. They did something to my beta."

There was a hint of vendetta in his voice and Scott looked back at Isaac as if he'd heard it, too.

At some point in the night, Isaac went back out into the waiting room. Allison went on a food run and everyone ate tacos, except for Isaac.

"Aren't you hungry?" Lydia asked, delicately wiping a piece of meat from her lip. "You didn't eat anything at lunch, either." Isaac shook his head and refrained from looking at anyone's food.

"I'm fine, thanks. I'd probably just throw it back up anyway."

At around 8:45, there was a small commotion in Deaton's office where, to those with werewolf hearing, it sounded like Scott was arguing with the vet over the result of one of the tests.

At 8:48, the arguing continued and it had risen to the point that even the humans could hear it now, but no one could make out explicitly what they were arguing about. Sometimes it sounded like they were arguing about the color blue and sometimes they were arguing about moon phases. Isaac just sat patiently and wished he were asleep.

At 9:00, Boyd went home and asked that someone give him the results tomorrow.

"It is getting late," Lydia remarked, checking the time on her phone. "I canceled a date for this, you know." She crossed her arms and legs in a huff. "I don't even know why I'm mixed up in all this crazy werewolf business anyway-"

"Yeah, well, no one asked you to come, alright?" Stiles exclaimed, nervous anger in his voice. He'd been quiet all night, chewing his nails and bouncing his legs. It seemed that the anxiety of the situation had affected him as well. Isaac observed as Lydia looked down at her knees and Stiles went back to worrying his fingers. Everyone it the room knew that there was more to this than a bug.

_________

"Isaac, Derek." Dr. Deaton stood in the doorway to his office with his hands clasped in front of him. "I need to talk to you."

His tone was heavy and the two werewolves obeyed immediately. Soon it was just the three humans left in the waiting room.

Scott was leaning against the counter with a pitiful look on his face. He gave Isaac that apologetic look one more time and then turned to grab the test results.

"I can tell you right now that Isaac's not sick." The vet took the materials from Scott and laid them out on the examination table. There were two plastic sticks, a printed piece of paper, and a cup of blue liquid. "But I'm afraid the news is a little heavier than the flu."

"What did the Alphas do to him?" Derek asked, remaining calm for the time being. Deaton just motioned to the items on the table.

"Do you know what these are?"

The two wolves not in the clear looked over them. Isaac shook his head, but Derek pointed the plastic stick shaped like a digital thermometer.

"I'm fairly certain what that one is," he pointed to the piece of paper. "And I can also read. Now tell me, what is wrong with Isaac?"

Scott motioned to the first plastic stick. "This is a human pregnancy test," he explained, then moved on. "This is a test for a chemical called relaxin. This is a urine test for hCG, and this is a blood test for hCG and progesterone." He paused. "All of them are positive. And all of them are from you, Isaac."

There was a stunned silence in the room as Isaac processed the information. Derek clenched his fists and looked down, as if he'd already known what the answer was going to be. Both Deaton and Scott were gauging Isaac's reaction.

"So that means..." Isaac began, but lost the words.

"It means you're pregnant," Deaton finished for him.


	2. Male-Werewolf-Baby

The ride back to Derek's loft was spent in painful silence. Painful for the lack of words and, on Isaac's part, for the sharp cramps that he now knew the origin of.

After Deaton had given everyone the news, there were mixed reactions. Scott seemed overly apologetic, Stiles was still quiet(the oddest occurrence that night), Allison looked conflicted and confused, and Lydia was the only one to take it with a light heart.

"Well, I guess this is my chance to finally plan a baby shower." She shrugged. "I always thought the first one to get knocked up would be Allison, though."

"Lydia!" Allison traded looks with Scott and flushed.

"What? With all the 'mating' you two do, it was bound to happen sooner or-"

"Do you think this is a joke?!" Derek exploded. He gestured to Isaac. "The Alphas did this to him! That night they kidnapped him and beat him? Remember that?" He stepped up to Lydia, who was standing her ground in the face of Derek's anger. "Turns out they also not only raped, but impregnated my beta!" His claws were out by now and his eyes glowed red with rage.

"Hey, hey, hey, Derek, buddy, that's enough," Stiles came up from behind and grabbed both of Derek's shoulders in an attempt to hold him back. "Let's not go tearing out throats here, alright?" The alpha's eyes went back to a smokey green and his claws retracted, but his body stayed tense. He eyed the room, especially Lydia, with a mean resolve.

"I don't know what your problem is," said Lydia in a cold voice, "but it is no reason to freak out on everyone. I get it, you're angry, you might even want revenge, but right now, you should be more worried about what to do, not what to react." She crossed her arms. "At least I was thinking about the future. I mean, where is Isaac's baby going to get all it's stuff if it doesn't have a shower?"

"You're taking this almost too well for someone only recently attached to the werewolf community," Stiles commented, his hands still on Derek, but in a softer, almost comforting hold. Lydia shrugged in response.

"After everything that happened last year? I'm willing to accept weird. Even if weird is a male-werewolf-baby."

The room fell into another silence. After a while, everyone was looking at Isaac, expecting a reaction.

The young beta stuttered. "What... What am I supposed to do?" He looked at Scott and then Deaton, wanting for answers.

"First we need to see exactly what we're dealing with," the doctor said. The teenagers turned their gaze towards him. "What I mean is, the fetus might not even be human. For all we know, it could be full wolf, or another creature, like your friend Jackson was." Lydia looked down at her shoes. "So what I need is a full examination. And for that, I need your help, Scott, or rather, your mother's."

Deaton explained that he needed access to several things, including a rape kit and an ultrasound machine. Since Ms. McCall was in on the deal with werewolves and the Alpha pack, she was the most valuable asset until they could figure out how to effectively help Isaac. With a few late-night phone calls, a date was set where Deaton and Isaac, with the help of Melissa, would go to the hospital and do a full-body check up.

After that was all settled, Dr. Deaton told everyone to go home and get some sleep. He let them go with a warning.

"I hope you all realize what this means. This isn't some bad guy that you can kill, or hunters that you can evade or an assignment you can shirk. This means a real, live creature. This is your first pack pup. And I'm sorry that this responsibility was thrust on you at such a young age, I really am. But now it's here." He stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, looking over each of the teens' faces. "And I hope you can handle it. Because while I am more than just a vet, I still am a vet, and I won't always be there to help you."

So everyone went home with a heavy heart that night; Stiles rode off in his Jeep, Allison in her car and Lydia in hers, and Isaac and Derek in the Toyota. Scott stayed behind to help with some late night appointments. On the way home, the cramps returned with a vengeance.

That night, Isaac lay in bed and dwelled on the day's occurrences. He began to regret telling Allison about being sick. He regretted needing to go for help. I should have dealt with it myself, he thought, instead of getting everyone worked up. He rolled onto his side. Now everyone would blame him, thinking it was his fault he got raped-

Well, that's your fault.

This is your fault!

It's your fault!

Isaac jolted in his bed, bodily cringing at the memories of his father staring down at him, about to close the refrigerator box, throwing glass or books, locking him out of the house, or beating him with his bare fists, blaming him for everything that had gone wrong for him.

Maybe the cramps in Isaac's middle got worse just then or maybe he was just that much more aware of them. The young werewolf curled into as tight a ball as he could, shielding himself from the outside world, and cradled his aching belly.

"I will... never," he murmured, his voice trembling with pain, both past and present, "do those things to you. I promise... I will never hurt you."  
___

"How are you going to explain a baby?" Stiles piped up through a mouthful of curly fries. The next day at lunch, the whole pack gathered at one table to discuss Isaac's situation. Everyone was still tense after Derek's reaction to it.

"What do you mean?" Isaac asked, picking at but not eating a plate of noodles.

"I mean, once it's... here, how are you going to explain the sudden appearance of a new human being? I mean, you can't just put 'mother: unknown' on a birth certificate." He paused. "Can you?"

"No, you can't," Lydia replied, popping a strawberry into her mouth. She licked her rosy lips. "You'll just have to say the baby is someone else's and claim it was a home birth. I don't know who would volunteer for something like that, though, so good luck-"

She looked up and noticed all the eyes at the table we trained on her. "Oh, no, no way. Isaac, you're sweet, but there is no way I'm being your fake baby-momma."

The whole table seemed to hum in thought. Boyd started tapping his fingers against his energy drink and Allison twirled curiously at her salad.

"Anyone else notice how freaked out Derek was last night?" Allison asked, looking up meekly, as if she was afraid to step outside of some invisible boundary. "I mean," she lowered her voice, "he honestly looked like he wanted to kill someone."

"The rape of a beta is one of the greatest offenses you can do to an alpha," Stiles answered promptly. "It's almost the same thing as intruding on their territory." He took a swig of milk and met Boyd's questioning gaze. "What?"

"How do you know so much all of a sudden?" the beta asked.

"Uh, am I the only one around here that does their research?" Stiles waved his arms out for emphasis as the table shrugged and continued to play with their food. "And hey, why is no one eating? Isaac, c'mon, dude, you need to eat, especially now that you're-"

"Now that he's what?" Danny set down a tray next to Scott and joined their group. The conversation screeched to a halt as Stiles floundered for a way to finish that sentence.

"He's uh, he... He's doing a more intense exercise regime!" He patted Isaac on the back and was met with an icy glare. Danny chuckled.

"That's probably a good thing," he said, "if coach sees all that weight you've been gaining, you're in deep trouble."

The table, save for Danny, exchanged glances with Isaac and went back to "eating" their lunch.  
\---

"I'll do it."

Isaac whipped around to see Cora shrugging her shoulders. He and Derek had been discussing the issue Stiles had brought up at lunch earlier about explaining where the baby came from.

"I can say the baby's mine," she offered, somewhat stoic. "I can say I had a traditional home birth and have been traveling so I didn't have time to get the birth certificate. I'll be the official mom, but you'll be the real mom."

Isaac grimaced slightly at being called "mom," but smiled nonetheless at Cora. "Thank you," he said quietly.

Derek leaned against the desk and watched the exchange. Now he stood up and put a hand on Isaac's shoulder.

"C'mon," he said, "we still have to get you to see Ms. McCall and Deaton at the hospital." Isaac got up and obediently followed Derek out to his van.

The doctor and nurse had set up in a room close to the back that no one was using. It looked more like a closet than an actual hospital room, but they were going for discretion, not style.

"Isaac, hey," Ms. McCall said, coming up with touch Isaac's arm. "I heard about you're, um..." she cast a glance back at Deaton. "Condition. We're gonna see what we can do to help." She gave a warm smile to the beta and guided him into the room.

There was an inclined bed and an ultrasound machine wheeled in there, along with a cart stacked with supplies, boxes, and instruments, the likes of which Isaac had never seen.

He lay down on the bed and was instructed to take his clothes off. When he stopped at just his shirt, Melissa put a hand on his arm.

"No, sweetie," she said, "your clothes." Isaac mentally stopped. Clothes meaning all of his clothes.

Deaton started rummaging through the cart and came up with a handful of swabs.

"Derek, you may want to step outside."


	3. Do What?

“...I have a what?”  
“A birth canal, it seems.” Deaton clasped his hands in front of his body. “Your body went through certain... changes after conception. Werewolves have the ability to reproduce a little differently, you see.”  
Melissa rubbed the creases on her forehead. “Okay... I can handle going crazy on the full moon, a pack of alphas, the getting injured every other day thing, I can even handle lizard people! But boys with uteruses? I don’t know, Deaton.”  
“Werewolves are a rare species, correct?” the doctor began, rifling through some papers on the cart. “and a species borne through supernatural occurrences, at that. Over the centuries, the species began to evolve to preserve it’s race, even if it meant switching gender roles up a bit.”  
“So, what, am I turning into a girl?” Isaac asked, putting his shirt back on.  
“Nothing quite so drastic.” Deaton held a piece of paper up to the light. “You simply have a new growth in your body. It’ll probably turn into waste as soon as the baby is born, and your birth canal with heal shut. Now take your shirt back off.”  
“But I thought I was--”  
“We’re not done yet, Isaac.” Deaton rapped his knuckles on the door. “You can come back in, Derek.”  
The alpha reentered the room. “So, what did you find out?”  
“Like you didn’t already hear,” Ms. McCall snickered. Derek gave her an odd look. “Oh, don’t play that card with me. I already know Scott listens in on my conversations, and if he can do it, I know you can.”  
Derek sighed. “So what do you still have to find out?” he asked, changing tactics.  
“I need DNA samples from all the male members of the Alpha pack, to see who the perpetrator is. I’m sure you can handle that.” The doctor smiled and Derek let out a low growl. “But for now, we need to see what’s going on inside of Isaac’s body. That’s what this is for.” He patted the ultrasound machine.  
Isaac did as he was told, taking his shirt back off and laying back down. Melissa squirted a clear gel onto his stomach and he hissed in protest.  
“Yeah, sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry, “that’s gotta be cold.”  
“I’ve had worse,” Isaac said, watching as the nurse spread the stuff around on his skin and fired up the machine. With one hand, she started moving a thick wand around his belly. The screen yielding nothing but black and white shapes, pulsing in rhythm to Isaac’s heartbeat. Melissa looked hard at the screen until she stopped at one place near the base of Isaac’s belly and looked harder.  
“Is that what I think it is?” Deaton asked, coming closer to the screen. Melissa nodded, her eyes still fixed on the black and white blobs.  
“What?” Derek asked, taking a step forward. “What is it? I can’t see anything but a bunch of static.”  
Using her free hand, Ms. McCall pointed to one little blob on the screen. “That,” she said, “is a baby.” Isaac could see it now; it’s bulb of a head, attached to a scrawny little bean that must be it’s body. The nurse moved her finger a little to the side.  
“And that’s another one.”  
A hush fell over the room broken only by the hum of the machine and the whining of the light. It didn’t really sink into Isaac right away. His mind was busy searching for a word.  
What was it? he thought. Couple, a bunch, multiples...  
Twins.  
Twins.  
“Twins.”  
He looked around the room frantically and saw everyone was staring at him. Melissa looked worried, Derek seemed confused. Deaton was the only one who seemed unphased.  
“It’s not that uncommon for werewolves to have litters of multiples,” he commented, looking back at the screen. “In fact, most litters consist of two pups or more. With real wolves, it’s closer to four or five.” Isaac wished Deaton would stop using the word “litter.”  
“Any idea when they’re due?” Melissa asked, taking the wand off and wiping Isaac down with a paper towel.  
“Werewolves coincide with real wolves in that aspect,” the vet replied. “The term for wolves is about 63 days, or nine weeks. How far along would you say he is based on the size of the fetuses?”  
“Gosh, they’re so tiny, um... I don’t know, a few days? Going by that time frame I’d say about four to five, at most.”  
Deaton turned to Isaac, who was once again putting his shirt back on. “Then I expect you to come back to my office for another check-up in a week.” He smiled. “I’ll see you then.”  
\------  
“He wants you to what? Is he crazy?”  
“You’re welcome to help, you know. I’m having the whole pack help me.” Derek sat down and ran a hand through his hair. Peter circled the desk with his arms crossed.  
“You’ve yet to take down even one of them,” said Peter incredulously, “how are you going to manage discreetly taking samples of their DNA without them seeing, hearing, or smelling you?”  
“I don’t know,” the alpha replied, sounding defeated. “Stealth. Maybe bait.”  
“So, you’re sending your betas into a death trap, that’s what you’re saying?”  
“Like I said, you’re welcome to help.”  
“Risen from the grave, remember? I’m still out of commission.” Peter smirked. Derek growled.  
“That excuse is getting worn out, uncle.”  
Isaac sat on his bed in the other room, mulling over what he’d learned earlier. Male pregnancies amongst werewolves were normal to some extent. He was having twins.   
He was having twins. I’m having twins.  
The realization came to him then like a ton of bricks. Twins! Two human beings! They would have thoughts and feelings and ideas and a favorite color. They would also be werewolves, born and raised, like Aidan and Ethan, hopefully with a little less bloodlust. They might grow up and find their own pack. They might start a pack. One of them might be an alpha.  
Isaac didn’t realize he was crying until he felt drop on his hands; they were rested on his stomach, which for the first time in days he realized had started to go soft. Danny was right; he was gaining weight. But now that he knew why, Isaac found he didn’t really care.  
\-------  
“You need to do what now?”  
Stiles jumped in front of Isaac’s path as they journeyed down the hall to their next class. Isaac sighed.  
“I’ll just sneak out to their bikes, grab a couple hairs, and be back in for the next class.” He shoved Stiles out of the way and continued towards the door out to the parking lot.  
“Yeah, but what if they see you? I mean, what if even one of them sees you? You’re not exactly in any condition to fight them off.” Stiles waved frantically, trying to distract the beta and failing. “Something tells me there a more than a little protective over those things-- I bet they cost a pretty penny, and I mean, if anything were to happen to them, what would they--”  
With an annoyed growl, Isaac shoved Stiles against the nearest locker and pinned him there. “Do you ever pause for breath?”  
“Not really, not usually, no. I’ve got lungs of steel and a windpipe that just keeps going, pup.” He pushed against Isaac’s arm, put the beta had him in a firm hold. “Yeah, okay, pregnant but not incapacitated, duly noted. I’m telling, you, dude, don’t mess with their bikes, it’s a bad idea--”  
But Isaac had already let go and was headed towards the door. Behind him, he could hear through the din of the crowd Stiles’s exasperated sighs of indignation. He realized that Stiles was probably just trying to look out for him, but Isaac honestly believed he didn’t need it. He could handle snatching a couple hairs now if it meant his alpha wouldn’t have to risk his neck fighting them for it later.  
They were kind of hard to miss. When Jackson “moved away” they soon became the most expensive vehicles on campus, and they were parked in stark contrast right next to Scott’s second-hand, bright green dirt bike. And sure enough, there were the helmets, hanging in sync on their respective handlebars.  
Students were beginning to empty into the school; class was starting soon. Isaac bent down and grabbed one of the shining black helmets. What class did the twins have this hour? Was it close? He just needed some more time to--  
“Well, what do we have here?”  
Isaac jumped and spun on the balls of his feet to look up at the twins themselves, glaring down at him with their arms hanging offensively at their sides.  
“Like our bikes, huh, beta?” One of them(Isaac could not and was confident that he would never be able to tell them apart unless one of them was stitched to Danny’s side so he resigned himself to just referring to them as twins one and two) growled. Isaac flinched as the alpha spat out the word ‘beta’ like it was an insult.  
“How many bones are in the human body?” one asked.  
The other one circled and was soon on the other side of Isaac; no escape. He was outside and class was beginning; no one would hear him if he screamed.  
“Let’s find out.”  
The twins seemed to be thinking the same thing as they smirked and advanced.


	4. Leashed

"...c..."

Being knocked out cold was only a half unpleasant experience. It's the actual knocking out that people tend to dislike. The 'out cold' part is actually pretty peaceful. It's like an instant, heavy sleep. Sometimes there are dreams, but most of the time it's just like floating through darkness.

"...I...ac..."

He would know. He's been knocked out plenty of times. Whether it be from a flying fist, or a stray piece of furniture, or even asphyxiation. It's comparable to being put to sleep with an anesthetic; at first, your body wants to fight it, to do anything to stay awake, but after a while, it decides that it's time to give in, that maybe sleeping would be better.

"...c...Is...ac!"

Until you wake up, that is.

The first thing Isaac felt was a raging pain in the side of his head that reverberated through what felt like his entire body. The first thing he heard was his name being called from far, far way. It got closer like a train coming towards you in a tunnel. And the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the blurry outline of five or six people crowded around him like spectators. Closest was Allison; she had been calling his name.

And the first thing he remembered was being jumped by the Alpha twins. And that made him remember his own twins.

Isaac sat up, trying frantically to get his bearings and see if he was healing. If they had hit him anywhere near the belt...

"Isaac!" Allison sounded relieved and panicked at the same time as she held back his shoulders, trying to get him to lean against the boulder he had been propped up against. "Isaac, Isaac, hey, hey, calm down, hey!"

Allison grabbed his wrist and held it in a vice grip. He could break her hold, sure, but what he saw frightened him and he immediately stopped fighting. His claws were out- he had transformed without meaning to.

"What... Wha-?" Isaac began, but the huntress already had all the answers.

"Scott heard it before he saw it. Somehow, he knew you were in trouble. He came here as fast as he could and chased off the twins. They didn't fight back, so that must mean they're planning something bigger." She pushed a piece of stray hair behind her ear and Isaac saw it- a streak of blood running down her arm from a sharp scratch. Recent, like, within the last thirty seconds recent.

"Did I do that?" asked Isaac, looking up at Allison. It was stupid to ask; of course he did. "I... I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry..."

She looked down at her wrist, as if she hadn't yet noticed the cut herself. "Oh, no, it's nothing, it's okay." But Isaac caught the small wince that passed through her eyes and cringed inside. He'd hurt someone without meaning to. That hadn't happened since he first got turned.

Scott came running up and crouched beside the two of them.

"You guys alright?" he asked, looking them both over. He noticed Allison's arm and the blood underneath Isaac's fingernails, but did nothing but squinch his face. "They ran into the woods. Probably back to wherever they have the rest of their pack." He looked down at the other beta. "Are you okay?" Concern first, anger later. A concept Isaac had never known before, not even with Derek or the coach or any of his teachers.

"Did they get the-?" Isaac stopped his sentence short, afraid of the answer. Instead he just hugged his middle until he was sure Scott or Allison got the message. What if the alphas knew? What if they had smelled it on him?

But Scott shook his head. "No, they only got to your arms and face before I got to you," he replied. "And you were lucky I did! What were you doing, provoking something like that? At school? While you're like... this?"

And there was the discipline. Isaac knew he shouldn't be afraid of violent consequence, after all, Scott was asking fair questions; but he still couldn't help but cringe every time someone raised their voice. Isaac struggled to remember what he had done to cause the alphas to attack him. He looked around and saw the remnants of a small fight crowd, a teacher, racing out to see what the trouble was, and the bikes.

Allison tilted her head and touched Isaac's other hand, which was closed into a fist at his side. "What's this?" she asked, gently prying the beta's hand open to reveal two short, light brown hairs. Isaac grinned at Scott, who gave him a disapproving eyeroll, but took the hairs nonetheless.

"I'll take them to Deaton after school." He reached to help both Allison and Isaac, who was already healing, back to class.  
\-----

It was raining later that day, and into the night. Isaac's wounds from earlier that day were shallow, so even though they were administered by an alpha, they didn't take more than two class periods to heal. The blood had long since been washed away, and his shirt was changed. An excuse had been made up to the teacher about the fight, something about them picking on Isaac and Scott acting as the knight in shining armor. Scott even managed to get one of them suspended. All that was left was to confront Derek.

Like bringing home the kill to share, bringing home news was customary in packs. It maintained a locus of trust if all the members knew what each other was doing. If everyone was on the same page, there was harmony in the pack. Isaac might feel a little guilty if Derek went off and tried to pry a sample from the twins knowing that he'd already gotten one.

Isaac just hoped that his alpha would react well to his daring endeavor.

"You idiot!" Derek roared. Nope. Not a good reaction at all. "You could've gotten yourself seriously injured, or worse, killed!"

"I saw an opportunity, so I thought-"

"No, you don't just think, not with an adversary like this. They aren't afraid to kill you, Isaac! They have no inhibition; they killed their own packs, what makes you think they'd have trouble killing you?"

Isaac shuffled his feet. This wasn't going like he'd hoped. "I didn't think they'd just show up like that."

"So you were off your guard, as well. Nice." Derek ran a hand that was on the verge of claws through his hair. Cora lingered in the nearest doorway and Peter sat placidly, as always, on the steps to up to the loft. An uncomfortable silence weighed heavily in the room. It was then that Isaac noticed the stench of blood rising up from the floorboards. Stale blood. Derek's blood.

"Was... was there a fight here?" Now that he looked closely, he could see claw marks littering the floor, a bandaged pipe where a bar was ripped out, bruises on Cora's jaw. "Guys...?" Still no answer out of any of three. Isaac let out a nervous chuckle. "I-I don't get it. Did something happen?"

Derek wouldn't look at him. He instead stared out the window at the torrent of rain as if it held all the answers to his problems, problems of which Isaac had next to no idea about. Eventually, his alpha sighed out a response.

"It's just... not going to work with both of you here." The thunder rumbled above them, accompanied by a flash of lightning. "I've got Cora now... It's too much. I need you out tonight." There was something about his voice, like he knew he was regretting every word he was saying, but he knew he had to keep saying them for someone's sake other than his own.

That didn't sit with Isaac. He laughed anxiously and waited to see if Derek was joking. He wasn't.

"Where am I supposed to go?" He looked back to Derek. Was this some kind of joke? Training exercise? He was hardly in any state to take any version of either.

"Somewhere else."

There was a pause. Maybe, Isaac thought with trepidation, maybe this is my fault. "...Did I do something wrong, Derek?" The words were poison in his mouth; he'd said them so many times.

His alpha finally faced him, angry. "You're doing something wrong right now by not leaving." He gestured to the waiting door with his water glass. "Just get out."

"No, please-" Isaac tried to plead.

"Get out," Derek insisted.

"C'mon-"

"Go!"

Isaac ducked down as soon as he saw Derek's arm twitch. It was an action so familiar to him it was like blinking. The arm goes up, duck and cover your vitals, or at least your face. Protect what you could. The glass smashed in perfect synchronization with a lightning strike, as if to punctuate it.

He slowly unfurled his body and mentally checked himself. None of the shards had hit him. He was lucky, or Derek hadn't really meant to hit him. Just to scare him. Isaac turned and glanced at his alpha one last pleading time before grabbing his bag- all he owned- and walking out the door.

It was a long walk to Scott's.


	5. What to Expect

"It's not them." Deaton shuffled through some papers, glanced at them, and promptly threw them into the recycling bin. "Neither of the twins are the father."

Isaac could do nothing but stare at the vet, dumbfounded. After all he had gone through to get those stupid hairs, neither of those douchebags were the father? Isaac supposed that was something to relent and something to congratulate at the same time.

"That leaves only two candidates, under the impression, that is, that it was just the Alphas that took advantage of you," the vet continued.

"You mean there could've been others?" Isaac asked, adjusting his hold on his backpack. That was a disturbing thought.

"Highly unlikely, but still likely." Deaton leaned over his examination table and looked Isaac in the eyes. "See, the only way for a male werewolf to conceive is if the other partner is an alpha. That aspect is still under speculation, but we think it's something to do with an alpha's control over the population of his pack. Female alphas cannot cause a male to carry; not if they can do it themselves."

Under speculation? Who speculated these things?

"So, could that mean that..." Isaac looked up at the doctor, who answered with a small, slightly amused smile.

"I've already checked," he said. "Derek didn't do this to you. I have blood samples on file of all of you. I already checked all of them, in case the alpha rule decided to take a day off." Isaac let out a metaphorical sigh of relief. But that still meant he had to get samples from Ennis and Deucalion.

"How do you propose I get close to the other Alphas?"

Deaton tilted his head like the dogs he took care of. "I don't propose you do it at all; it's too risky. Isn't Derek helping you?"

"Derek is..." Isaac looked down at his dirty shoes. "Um... I'm on my own for a while."

"Then go to Scott," replied Deaton promptly. "He's your next best bet. Actually, I'd say he's your first best bet. Scott's got a better grip on responsibility than Derek does." Deaton gripped Isaac's arm reassuringly "He can help you get the rest of the samples. I'd say I'd like to help, but," he stepped back to the table, "I'm just a vet." Deaton smiled.

Isaac liked the doctor. He'd been good help for the past couple months, and more prominently in the previous and coming weeks. He just hoped he was right about Scott.

* * *

Isaac had completely forgotten about the killings in his and the pack's frenzy with this new...conflict. The killings, or as Stiles called them, sacrifices, were starting to increase in number. The three virgins, and now the three men with a military affiliation. The last two were just missing, but it could be pretty well discerned what their fate would be.

The Durach, or "dark oak," as Deaton had helped them to decipher, was the one behind this. Who exactly this Durach was was still a mystery, however. But it was up to either the FBI or Derek's pack to figure it out.

Lydia was already very close to the situation. How, though, was still under speculation. The problem was was that she kept stumbling on bodies; driving to a murder scene without meaning to, ending up in the music room without knowing how she got there. What was scary was that the last time this had happened, she'd been poisoned by Peter's alpha bite and made to hallucinate. It ended up in Peter coming back from the grave.

The pack was crossing their claws that something as drastic didn't happen again.

But until they figured something out, the whole school was in a frenzy. Two teachers gone, two students killed, and frequent animal attacks had drawn the student body into a state of veritable panic. It seemed like every student and teacher was worried for everyone's safety.

Except for one.

"C'mon, ladies, I wanna see some hustle! We need to get in as many practices as we can before this meet!" The coach scanned the locker room. The actual girls on the team gave him scrupulous looks. "No offense, ladies."

Isaac held his gym shorts in his hands. He had no intention of dressing out or running today; he'd been sick since he woke up and was in no mood, physically or mentally, to run three miles first thing in the morning. Plus, he had no idea what the repercussions would be for the... for the...

He threw his shorts back in his locker and slammed the door. He couldn't even bring himself to think it.

Stiles jogged over, already in his running sweats. "Hey, dude, maybe you shouldn't do this, y'know, you don't know what it could-"

"I know. I've already thought about it." Isaac slammed his locker shut. "In fact, I'm thinking about quitting the team."

"Oh, well, that's probably great! I mean, for the, y'know- And what with the twins being on the team, too, it-"

"You can't quit!" Scott appeared behind Stiles(who jumped), a worried look on his face.

"Jeezus, Scott, dude, give a guy a warning-"

"Isaac, you have to stay on the team. We have safety in numbers. I can't protect you if we're apart."

"Who said I needed your protection?" Isaac asked incredulously. Scott leveled the fellow beta with a serious stare.

"Isaac, I hate to say it, but," he lowered his voice, "but you're vulnerable right now. You need all the protection you can get. And I'm sure that you can take care of yourself, I really am. But not with these guys around." Scott gestured with a nod to the Ethan. Isaac peered through the lockers and saw the Alpha twin slipping on a tight jersey. A glance over saw Danny watching, as well. Isaac felt a low growl rumble in his throat.

"Isaac," Scott said, putting a firm hand on his arm, "what's the point of a pack if all don't stick together?"

The two betas shared a look for what felt like hours and only broke when the coach blew his whistle.

"Hurry it up, ya ladi- ya babies! We got three miles to run, let's get our asses in gear!"

Isaac sighed and reopened his locker. "Fine," he said, peeling off his sweater and throwing it at Stiles("Hey!"), "I'll stay on the stupid team." But if he had a miscarriage he was blaming it on those two dweebs.

* * *

Isaac knew next to nothing when it came to pregnancies, pregnant people, or pregnant habits. All he knew was what Deaton and Ms. McCall had told him, which was that he would be more tired, that he should take it easy, maybe lay off the maiming and gang fights for a while. And while he'd taken those things to heart, he still had no idea what he was going into.

So when his nose was suddenly filled with the intoxicating smell of tomatoes and stomach growled with insatiable need it was entirely unprecedented.

Isaac lifted his head from where it was resting on the lunch table and looked around wildly for the source of the smell.

"Isaac?" Scott watched the frazzled beta twirl his head in every direction. "What are you doing? Is everything alright?" Isaac didn't answer, instead resorting to sticking his face towards the ceiling and trying to pinpoint the sweet scent.

"What? Timmy fall down a well?" Stiles slammed his plastic tray down on the table. Stiles wasn't a small eater by any means- his personal menu usually consisted of whatever entree the school had to offer, a couple sides, a water, and a milk. Today, his meal contained a burger, a few cookies, the usual beverage, and a salad.

A salad.

Isaac's eyes glowed as he spotted the diced fruits on Stiles's tray. What he felt was a similar sensation to spotting a target or a foe, or prey. He reached for them and was promptly swatted away.

"Hey, bad dog, get your own lunch," exclaimed Stiles, sheltering his lunch.

Isaac growled low in his chest and reached for the salad again, only to be once again denied.

"Dude, what is it with you and this salad?" Stiles asked wildly through a mouthful of cafeteria burger.

"Stiles, give him your salad," Lydia told the teen.

"What?" Why? I paid for it, he should get his own-"

"Actually, your dad paid for it," she replied, then leveled him with a stare, "now give the puppy your salad. Or else _he's_ going to rip your throat out." She exaggerated her point with one painted nail in Isaac's direction, from where he was fuming and his eyes were still glowing.

"Hey, put those away," Allison warned, "before someone sees you and freaks out!" She glanced around to see if anyone was watching their table.

"Stiles, give him your salad!"

"Geez, fine!" Stiles tossed his styrofoam bowl over to Isaac, who immediately went for the little red fruits. "Sheesh, why's everyone so worked up about my salad? Why couldn't he just get his own?"

Lydia smirked and went back to her own lunch of pitas and hummus. "Cravings," she said simply. Scott tilted his head.

"Cravings?" he asked, looking from her to Isaac(who was currently licking the residual tomato juice off of the remaining lettuce leaves).

"Cravings. Pregnant people get cravings." She shrugged. "For crazy stuff, too. My mom told me that when she was pregnant with me, she had wanted Chicago deep-dish pizza with garlic and anchovies and wouldn't eat anything else for a week." Lydia tore off a piece of bread with her teeth.

Isaac looked up from the now-empty bowl he was twirling in his hands. "So, am I going to crave stuff like that, too? Like... anchovies?"

"It all depends on what your body needs," Lydia explained. "You obviously had a lack of lycopene in your body."

Stiles gave her a disbelieving look. "Hey, wait, why do you know so much about pregnancies all of a sudden?"

"You're not the only one who can do research, Stiles." Lydia smiled and clapped her hands of bread crumbs.

Isaac looked at the bowl in thought. Cravings, huh? What else was there about pregnancy that he had to look forward to?


	6. Star Player

She came to him in his dreams.

Engines racing, wheels screeching, and footsteps pounding, the sound of growls close in their ears. Bursting through the glass and crashing to the floor. Being whisked to the hospital. Finding her blood painted on the locker room walls.

She saved him. And they killed her.

A flash of lightning and Isaac sat bolt-upright in his bed, if you could call it that. The pullout couch in Scott's living room wasn't much as far as sleeping surfaces went, but it wasn't an alleyway or a person-sized refrigerator or a subway car. And it smelled like home. Not Isaac's home, of course. His home, when it was habitable, smelled like power tools and hardwood floors and sometimes blood. No, Scott's home smelled like Chinese takeout and dirty shoes and hospital scrubs and soap. It smelled like life.

Isaac slowly lay back down, taking deep breaths to calm his heart. It wasn't the first time he'd dreamt of her, of the girl. In the past week, he'd had three instances where the memories of that night came back in vivid detail. Every sensation, every emotion, were all heightened like he'd been under the influence. He only remembered what had happened from when he had been resuscitated to when they were taken to the hospital. Struggling to stay on the bike with the Alpha twins in hot pursuit, the claws out, taking a swipe as soon as they're in range-

Another flash of lightning, followed closely by a clash of thunder. There was a light rain outside; more noise than wet. Scott had gone to Allison's, but why he wouldn't say. He seemed... conflicted. Like he knew he was about to do something he would regret.

The clock in the kitchen said it was 11:36 PM. It was late at night; soon to be early in the morning. Isaac's mind told him he needed sleep, but his body was wide awake now. He was wired as if he were still in the warehouse, seeing the twins transform into that beast for the first time.

Isaac's hands fell to his lower belly. So neither of them had done this to him. That was a relief. Isaac wouldn't any part of them growing inside of his body. But then, the alternatives weren't much better. With the twins out, that left Ennis or Deucalion. Ennis, the big brute, and Deucalion, the mysterious leader. And then there was always the possibility that there was someone else; another Alpha that they knew nothing about. That sent shivers down Isaac's spine, that there was the chance, however slight, that they hadn't even begun to comprehend their adversary. That maybe there were more tricks up their sleeves. That maybe, just when they think they've won, the Alphas hadn't even started.

There were footsteps down the hall and Isaac jumped, but upon taking a closer listen they turned out to be Ms. McCall's. He looked up as she peered around the corner. Her hair was down and she was wearing grubby sweats as pajamas.

She smiled. "You awake, too?" she asked, coming to sit in the chair adjacent the couch.

"Yeah, couldn't sleep," Isaac replied, sitting up on his elbows. He'd thrown off his shirt at some point in the night and was left in naught but his gym shorts. He only had so much clothing, so he had to make rounds(thank goodness Ms. McCall was willing to do his laundry, bless her).

The rain pattered on outside, hitting the porch roof and making waterfalls down into the garden. There wasn't much to see out the window besides what one could make out from the light of the streetlamp and the waning moon.

"I, uh..." Melissa started uncomfortably, "I heard you yelling. Were you having a nightmare?"

He had been yelling?

"Um, what was I, uh, yelling about?" Isaac played with his fingers anxiously.

Ms. McCall crossed her arms and tucked herself into the chair. "I couldn't make all of it out," she replied, casting the occasional glance up at Isaac. "Something about a girl... 'don't touch her' or something like that." She met the teen's eyes. "Was it the girl at the hospital? Is that who you were dreaming about?"

Isaac nodded. Even now, his memory of the dream was fuzzy, but he was sure he would have it again in full IMAX. Melissa hummed in understanding and got up from the chair. She stopped halfway to the kitchen and looked down at Isaac.

"You know, Scott has nightmares, too. About Allison, most of the time." She looked down at her bare feet and smiled. "He told me once that one was about me. He was afraid I was going to get hurt."

That sounded like Scott. It seemed like he was always putting the interests of others before his own safety. Stupid, but chivalrous to say the least. It reminded Isaac of something derek had said last year, when they had that fight at Scott's house over Lydia, back when they thought that she was the Kanima. Scott was standing on his porch and he threw Erica, Isaac, and Boyd all out on the street. Stiles and Allison were at his sides, facing Derek down.

"You're not a beta," he'd said, "you're already an Alpha. Of your own pack."

And now that seemed true now more than ever. Isaac felt lately that he trusted Scott over anyone, even over Derek. He felt like he could control himself around the fellow beta.

"Hey," Ms. McCall said, breaking Isaac out of his thoughts, "I can't sleep either." She held up the phone. "How about we order a pizza?" Just the thought of food made Isaac's stomach growl and he smiled.

Not ideal sleeping conditions, but it still beat Derek's loft by a landslide.

* * *

Something was up with Scott all of the next day.

He was fidgeting with his fingers and casting nervous glances at his pack and spent several minutes at a time staring at the Alpha twins, as if sizing them up. There was also something morose about him. Like he had a cloud hanging over him the whole day.

Around midday, he took Boyd aside and looked like he was starting to reason with him on something. He was careful to take them out of earshot; that included nosey wolves' earshot. Whatever it was that Scott needed to talk to him about, Boyd appeared to adamantly disagree while Scott seemed outright pleading.

Isaac watched it happen from across the busy lacrosse field. He couldn't hear over them over the din of practice, but he could feel. He felt Scott's desperation and Boyd's confusion and frustration. His gaze alternated from his packmates to his teammates. A look saw Stiles doing the same thing. The teen actually tripped over a pile of equipment while looking away.

"Lahey!"

Isaac snapped out of concentration when Coach called his name. The teen looked over to see him gesturing with a stick, "get over here."

"Yeah, coach?" Isaac jogged over and reached out to the stick he was handed.

"Whadya mean, 'yeah'?" Coach Finstock shoved the stick into Isaac's hands and groped for his whistle. "You're up. Go get in line."

Isaac looked up at the long line of players facing the goal. When he agreed to stay on the team, actually playing wasn't something he'd anticipated. Would he be alright? Was it good or bad for the twins? Suddenly he was regretting not fighting Scott on the issue.

"Uh, coach, I think I'm gonna have to sit today out," Isaac twirled the stick in his bare hands, "I'm feeling a little sore." Which wasn't all the way a lie.

"Quit your whining, Lahey," Coach blew his whistle once in the teen's face.

"Jackson used to get passes all the time," Isaac threw his arms out, exasperated. He didn't know if it was safe to play; he needed to get back to the bench.

Coach got as far into Isaac's face as his stature would allow. "Jackson," he seethed, "was a star player." he put a hand on Isaac's shoulder. "Are you a star player, Lahey?"

Isaac hung his head marginally. "No, coach."

"Then you don't get a pass." He put the whistle back up to his lips. "And that goes for all of you knuckleheads! I wanna see some improvement this year, got it?!"

"Coach, we won every game last year," Danny shouted from his position at the front of the line.

Finstock fumbled. "Well then I wanna see some better attitudes! You rugrats are getting lazy!" One short blow of the whistle later and the rest of the players were lined up, including Stiles and Scott, who were both behind Isaac.

"Hey, what was that all about?" Stiles mumbled in Scott's ear. Isaac listened in as he slid on his helmet. "What did you want with Boyd?"

Scott shook his head. "They're just..." he sighed. "I just feel like they're about to do something really stupid."

Another whistle, and Danny was off like a bullet with the ball in his basket. Isaac craned his neck to watch as he twirled his way around the defense and made a shot. Coach cheered him on and called up the next player.

"Hey, why are we even playing?" Stiles asked from behind Scott. "It's not even close to season yet."

"This is recruitment, remember? We had to go through this, too." Scott gestured to the waiting group of lowerclassmen, nervously twirling their sticks and shuffling in their cleats.

"Seems a little late in the year, though, don't you think? Ours was the first day of school."

"Well, maybe it's because of all the murders going on around here? And the animal attacks? And the kidnappings?" Scott sounded tired and fed up. Isaac listened as he raised his gloves and verbally backed off.

"Lahey! C'mon, get your ass in gear, you're up!"

Isaac shifted his attention back to lacrosse, where he had unconsciously moved to the front of the line. He recognized the defense and goalie from last year, but couldn't place their names. Hard to when their faces were obscured by bars, as was his vision. It'd never seemed to be a problem until he was painfully aware of it.

He caught the ball coach tossed him without thinking and readied his stance. He could see a path to the goal, which way the defense would move, and where the goalie would try to block. This was the same drill he'd done a million times. So why did this seem so nerve-wrecking?

Isaac kicked off of the turf and ran towards defense. He knew his teammate would do anything to keep him from reaching the goal, so he had to be sure not to-

Isaac had the wind knocked out of him as an elbow connected staunchly to his stomach. Of all the padding on his body, the one place he needed protected the most was left bare save for a jersey. The defense came rocketing at him like a bull, one shoulder braced for impact. The clash shook both their bodies, but threw Isaac back a good two feet while the other player stayed his solid stance. Isaac staggered, but managed to remain on his feet.

That is, until a stabbing pain pierced his belly like a bullet.

The time it took to collapse, while probably only about three seconds, felt like hours. His knees hit the grass, followed by his hips and his torso, but Isaac didn't pay much mind to it. His attention was focused on holding his midsection, trying to keep the pain in. By the time Scott was at his side, Isaac's body was a folded piece of paper.

"Isaac!" There were three pairs of hands on him; Scott's, Stiles's, and the defense.

"I just blocked him, I didn't think- Did I hit a sore spot, or-?" The student lifted his helmet. He looked worried.

"Look, can you just get back-" Stiles shoved the student out of the way and leaned in to Scott. "We need to get him out of here, we need to get him to Deaton's, we need to get him to your mom- Scott, something could be really wrong-"

"Don't you think I know that?" Scott panicked under his breath. "But we can't just whisk him off to the hospital, not in the middle of school!"

Finally, Coach Finstock noticed what was going on and pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered. "Hey, hey- move it, you little cretins- what happened, is he alright?" He gestured with a nod to Isaac, who was still on the ground, groaning, and obviously not alright.

"Yeah, but coach, we just need to-"

Stiles cut Scott off, "he needs to get to the hospital pronto, coach, he has a chronic problem with internal bleeding." Scott gave his friend a wild look, and was returned with a stoic look that said, "quiet, I've got this."

"Jeezus, why's he even on the team?! Lacrosse isn't walk in the park, or-"

"Coach, Isaac? Hospital? Internal bleeding?"

"Oh, right, right, uh... Does this mean we have to call and ambulance? Hey, someone call a-!"

"No, no, no, coach, we got it!" Stiles started moving to get Isaac's arm over his shoulder. Scott picked up on what he was doing and joined in. "We can take him! I'll drive!"

And the two were staggering away towards the parking lot, carrying Isaac, before the coach could get in a, "wait, I don't think you have permission to," or, "you're not allowed to," or, "you can't miss practice." They were speeding away in the Jeep before they could think better of it.


	7. Peace Offering

"I did warn you, you know." Ms. McCall said, her fingers on Isaac's wrist. "I believe it was something like, 'no overly strenuous or violent activities,' which I'm pretty sure includes lacrosse." She turned back to her clipboard and mumbled something like, "73 beats per minute..." under her breath.

"Yeah, you try convincing the coach that I can't play without going into detail," Isaac replied, shifting in the hospital chair. Ms. McCall had graciously taken time out of her lunch break to help when she saw her son and Stiles drag Isaac into the ER.

Another cramp passed through Isaac's torso and he winced. The pain had long since ebbed out to cramps; not quite as uncomfortable, but nevertheless distracting.

"Well, that's just something you'll have to figure out, and soon. Proportionately, you'd be almost a month into your first trimester. It won't be long until you start showing, especially since you have twins."

Isaac hadn't even thought about that. What would he do when he did start to... show? He could drop out of school for the last couple of weeks, say he was sick. But it was so early in the year; he'd flunk if he missed that much school so soon.

"How bad will it be?" Isaac asked. Ms. McCall gave him a confused look. "I mean... How much will I...?"

"Oh, honey, like I said, you're having twins," she replied, laughing sympathetically, "you'll be huge. I mean, I thought I was big when I had Scott, and then I went to a few training classes and saw some of the women there. One can only assume you'll develop in the same fashion."

Isaac groaned. So hiding it was out of the question. This wasn't something he signed up for when he agreed to the bite last year. In fact, this was nothing he could ever anticipate. All this, the Alpha pack, the Durach... He thought all there was to being a werewolf was everything Derek had told him. Hunters, the full moon, and pack mentality. Life was getting much too surreal for his taste.

Scott and Stiles had been waiting outside in the waiting room the whole time. Whether it was from genuine concern or just because they didn't want to go back to school, Isaac didn't know. But he could partially hear their conversation from through the doors.

"...shouldn't do it, Scott," Stiles warned, "it's too dangerous."  
"I know, but something has to be before another person gets killed," replied Scott. "We've already lost Erica to all this. She was just a kid, just like us, Stiles!"

"Look, I know you feel strongly about this, and I know you wanna march in there, all Superman, and take down the Big Bad Wolf, but there's gotta be a better way than this. You can't just go in there- alone!- and start preaching, Scott, they're not going to listen."

So Scott had a plan; he wanted to face off with Deucalion himself. Isaac tuned his hearing more closely.

"I know, but it's worth a shot," Scott murmured. "Plus, they're not after me, they're after Derek. If I can't get them to listen, they'll probably just beat me up and throw me out or something. But it has to be soon, like right after school. Derek is planning something for tonight."

Stiles sighed. "Look, I know there's no getting through your adamant little werewolf head, so if you're really going to do this, don't go alone. Take Isaac or something."

"You know I can't do that. You saw that happened today at lacrosse; imagine what would happen in instead of an elbow to the stomach, it was a set of claws."

"Yeah, you're right." Stiles sighed again. Isaac could hear him grumble in annoyance. "Just... be as careful as you can, alright? Deucalion isn't playing around, here."

"Alright, I promise."

They went silent after that, probably stewing in their own words. Isaac shifted his focus back to the small examination room. It was a pediatrics office, but it had been the first empty room they'd come across.

"Earth to Isaac," said Melissa, snapping her fingers in the teen's face. She raised an eyebrow. "I called your name like six times. Where were you?"

"Oh, I, uh-" I was listening in on your son's suicide plan. "I was just distracted, uh, sorry."

She nodded. "Uh, huh. Look, I want you guys to get back to school. I'm glad you got here as fast as you could, but now you're place is in class." Ms. McCall slid off her gloves. "You'll be fine as long as you take it easy for the rest of the day."

Isaac nodded and hopped off the table. Based on Scott and Stiles's conversation, he had a feeling he wasn't exactly going to be "taking it easy."

* * *

Scott was being as quiet as he could, which was an easy enough feat to accomplish when you were a being of the supernatural, built for stealth and stalking of prey. Being unheard, however, was not so easy when you shared space with a creature of the same ilk.

Isaac could hear him sneaking around his room, gathering his jacket and boots and helmet. He knew where Scott was going, and he knew that if he didn't go with him, something bad would happen. Scott was putting his life in danger by facing them alone. So when he heard Scott step towards the door, Isaac slid around the corner and faced him.

Scott jumped. "Where're you going?" Isaac asked.

Scott sputtered. "Oh, I, uh..." He twirled his helmet nervously in his hands. He was bad at this. "I was, uh, going to get some food to eat!"

"Oh, cool I'll come with you."

"Ah, uh, no, it's, uh, okay, I can eat alone."

"What're you getting?" Isaac leveled Scott with an amused look.

"Uuuuuuhhh... Mmmexicannnnnn?" He was really bad at this.

"Aw, dude, I love Mexican-"

"Isaac."

Scott was back to the protective older brother mode, with a hand on Isaac's arm and a stern look on his face. "It's okay. I can eat alone."

Isaac smiled and shook his head. "You're not going alone." He grabbed the second helmet and nodded to the door. "C'mon."

But the grip on his arm tightened. The two betas stared at each other, each trying to convey their own warning through their eyes.

"Isaac," Scott's voice lowered in his seriousness, "don't do this. You know you can't come with me."

Isaac shook his arm free of Scott's grip. "And you know you can't do this alone." He once again gestured to the door. This time, however, Scott complied(albeit reluctantly) and led the way out to his bike.

Scott's bike had become Isaac's primary mode of transportation since he'd been staying with Scott. Before, it was his own bicycle, then it was Derek's car. When Derek was no longer an option and it was obvious that Isaac couldn't(or shouldn't) bike for a while, he learned very quickly how to ride passenger on a tiny motorbike.

The ride downtown was wet, thanks to the previous night's rain. It was late in the afternoon, so people were starting to get off work and head home; the city was emptying out into the suburbs in an almost ritualistic fashion.

"We're just going to talk to them," Scott warned, slipping off his helmet and scoping out the area. "Try and reason with them. That's it." He looked back and gave Isaac a warning look.

This was dangerous. There was no reasoning with this adversary; they had proven themselves to be bloodthirsty killers. Scott was blinded by his struggle for peace that he didn't see the risks that went with this, and Isaac was too empathetic to let him go in by himself.

"What?" asked Scott after Isaac had neglected to answer him. He shook his head.

"Nothing, it's just that, uh... I'm actually kind of hungry now."

Scott took in a deep breath and faced front. "Me, too," he replied, clapping Isaac on the back. They both strode forward into the abandoned mall in high hopes that this could possibly end well.

* * *

Deucalion had a presence that could hardly be put into words. He was beautiful and terrible, warm and imposing. At first glance, he's a helpless blind man, tapping away through life, unassuming. Only from the corner of your eye can you feel the awesome presence, see the raw power concealed beneath his pink eyes. If you are alone with him, like Scott and Isaac were in that spacious hall, you feel as if he could burn kingdoms and bring down empires. He could see into your soul without seeing you at all.

Isaac managed to catch Scott's eye as they approached the Alpha. Through Scott's eyes, he was reassured, made confident, but he wasn't sure why. It was a simple glance, but it felt so meaningful. Lately, it had felt like Scott had an influence on him that he couldn't quite describe; Isaac could track it back to when he'd gone to him and Deaton in the clinic and he'd shown him how to share pain. Since then, it wasn't just his trust that Scott had gained that day; it felt more like brotherhood.

"You didn't come alone," Deucalion murmured from halfway up the decrepit escalator. His words rang like a low bell, menacing and just.

"Yeah," Scott replied in similar volume but calmer tone. "This is Isaac." Even though they all knew well that Isaac and Deucalion had met before. Unfortunately, only one out of the three present actually recalled the encounter.

The Alpha kept his head steady, his hypothetical gaze fixed on a point far off in space. "I'm not talking about Isaac."

And that's when both betas heard it; footsteps. A familiar heartbeat. It was their alpha; Derek was here. He stepped out of the shadows, already fully transformed. Silhouettes of Boyd and Cora could be seen behind him.

"You knew I would do this," Scott stated, not asked. He sounded exasperated. "Derek, don't- You can't do this and no one get's hurt, or someone else dies-"

"Him," Derek interjected, raising one claw to the unabashed Deucalion. "Just him."

"Derek, don't-" Scott continued to plead, "we can do this another way! We don't always have to use violence to-"

Derek cut his beta off with a loud snarl. "Don't you get it?" he roared. "This isn't just about territory, or their stupid little pack; it's about what they did to Isaac! What he did!" The same claw gestured once again to the Alpha atop the stair, who stood his ground, not saying a word.

He was responsible. Deucalion was responsible for what had been done to Isaac, everything that he had been though and would go through, for the unwanted creation of two new lives thrust on a group of unsuspecting teenagers. Deucalion had been the one to violate him, to take away his pride and his life. To be blunt, Deucalion had been the one to fuck him down, to rape him, to impregnate him with his hellish spawn.

"Isaac!"

Scott rammed his body up against Isaac's. The beta himself didn't realize he'd transformed until he was raking against Scott's jacket with his claws, trying to break free and tear Deucalion's throat out.

"Him!" Isaac roared. "He did this to me!" He snarled and pushed against Scott restraining arms. "I'll kill him!" His shouts echoed off of the decaying walls, accentuated by the sounds of his scrabbling feet.

Everyone could practically hear the smirk creeping across Deucalion's face. "Now, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The whole pack turned to the terrible sounds of claws on concrete and saw Kali sliding down a column, her eyes a burning red and her black claws extended. Ennis came from out of the shadows and snarled a vicious snarl. The twins stood atop a crumbling balcony, their stances wide and ready to strike. Scott backed up a fraction as they both leapt off and transformed mid-air, both combining into one terrible, monstrous figure.

They never should have come.


	8. Bus Ride

They had all felt it when Erica died.

None of the pack would admit it to each other, but on that fateful night, late into the night, Derek, Scott, and Isaac had all woken up for seemingly no reason, filled with dread and the feeling of loss. It was like someone had reached into their soul and torn a gaping hole into it. It was fresh and dull and it kept the wolves up through the night. All three had felt loss, but Scott and Isaac had never felt it like this before.

The feeling continued to haunt them until they found Erica’s body stashed away in a broom cupboard. Then did they find resolution. Then did they know the source of their silent anguish. The wound had been seared shut, leaving an ugly scar across their wolf’s soul. None of them thought that this would be their last scar. Derek was covered in them.

So when that feeling, the feeling of impending dread, the feeling like you’ve lost more than a friend or a brother, never came, Isaac felt apprehensive.

Perhaps it was because it was their alpha that had died that it felt different, but one would think that if it was the leader and not a mere component that was removed, the emotional impact would magnify, not diminish. So why did Isaac feel whole still? Why was he still in one piece? Yes, he was devastated and in mourning, but his soul felt... normal. Well, as normal as a werewolf soul in a teenager’s body could be. In fact, it felt more, like it had been added on to; Isaac attributed that to the presence of the twins. His twins. Not other twins, or one in particular, like the one Boyd was currently sizing up.

“Stop thinking about it, man,” Isaac warned. He fidgeted with his fingers and kept his gaze forward. He’d woken up with a bad bout with nausea and would rather not repeat it with added motion sickness.

Boyd half-looked at his fellow beta. “What, you’re not thinking about it, too?” he asked. And of course Isaac was thinking about it. of course he was thinking of everything that had happened the night before, the slashing of fangs and claws, getting pulverized and thrown and crushed and torn at, but that Alpha, sitting just across the aisle, and his devilish pack. To make matters worse, said Alpha was sitting with Danny.

Now, Danny wasn’t part of the pack, officially. He wasn’t even aware of the existence of werewolves or anything out the ordinary in Beacon Hills, as far as they knew. But he was a good friend of Scott and Stiles, and through association, became acquainted with the rest of the pack. He’d also helped them out once or twice in a jam, whether he knew the impact he was making or not. Danny was smart and he was nice and he was an asset, and Ethan was sitting next to him and had been putting the moves on him all week. To make matters worse, the other one was busy getting into Lydia shorts. It made the pack infuriated.

“We’ll both stop thinking about it.”

But it wasn’t that easy. To reflect on everything that had happened the previous night, to know that out there, his alpha was lying in a pool of his own blood, rotting, to know that the ones who killed him were not only on the loose, but one of them was sitting five feet away. To know that you couldn’t do a thing about it, because you were on a bus full of kids who knew nothing of the supernatural, who led normal teenage lives, who couldn’t even begin to guess that four of their fellow students with them were creatures of fable.

Thunder rumbled outside. Isaac pressed his forehead to the window and watched as angry clouds roiled above them. Ms. McCall didn’t want them going out of town with a tornado warning in effect, but one didn’t say no to couch. Plus, the trip had already been paid for. So dangerous storm, volatile werewolves, and foreboding feelings or not, the track and lacrosse teams were going to this meet.

Scott and Stiles had been pushed to the back of the bus(or perhaps just headed there out of the empty habits of social rejects), so that left Isaac with no one to talk to but Boyd.

Isaac liked Boyd, but he was also frightened by him. He always had his heart in the right place, but also had a bad habit of going about things the wrong way, the wrong way usually being violence. Isaac had a natural aversion to anything violent-- something that, being a werewolf, was quite an emotional setback. So he was always a little wary of Boyd, but respected him all the same. The only problem with Boyd being the only one to talk to, is that Boyd didn’t talk. He contemplated and judged silently, but he rarely spoke when word’s needn’t be spoken.

So Isaac did the same. He sat in silence with Boyd and the bus ride was relatively uneventful. That is, until the bus came to a screeching halt and all the students flew forward in one, collective jolt. Isaac braced himself on the back of the seat and craned to look out the front window. Traffic, as far as the eye could see. He pulled out his phone.

“There’s a jackknifed tractor a few miles ahead,” he mumbled, tapping away on his phone. The traffic report showed a guess of a few hours’ delay. “We could miss the meet.” Isaac slid his phone back into his pocket and continued to peer out the window. Then he heard it; a raised pulse, like fire in the veins, right next to him.

“Boyd?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. A quick glance told him as much as his hearing did; Boyd was getting angry, really angry. His heart rate was in the hundreds, his hands were clenching into fists, and his eyes were beginning to smoulder into a dull gold. He turned his head to look back at Ethan and Isaac knew exactly what his aim was.

“Boyd,” he said more fervently. He tried to grab at his friend’s arm but was shaken off as Boyd’s claws came out. Isaac backed against the wall of the bus and watched as Boyd turned his body towards Ethan.

Then reprieve came in the form of Scott McCall, staggering over to them with a... pained expression on his face?

He placed his hand on Boyd’s clawed one and lowered himself into the seat adjacent. He leveled Boyd with a strict stare.

“Let. Go,” growled Boyd.

“You got a plan,” Scott said, faux impressed. He sounded tired. “Tell me your brilliant plan, and I’ll let go.” The two betas faced each other down. “What’re you gonna do? Kill him? Right here? And then what? What’re you gonna do after that?”

“I don’t care.” Boyd tried to shake Scott off, to go at Ethan, but Scott’s grip stayed fortunately strong. Boyd growled and struggled, while Isaac checked around to see if anyone, especially Ethan, was watching. No doubt the Alpha could hear them, and most likely he just didn’t care.

“I do,” Scott said under his breath. His eyes were locked on Boyd’s, trying to keep the aggravated teen’s concentration.

That’s when Isaac caught the scent. Blood. Close by. He looked around; could one of the girls on the team be on her period? No, it was a different kind of blood. A stale, toxic blood. Isaac looked back at Scott, and there-- his shirt was stained with a dark red where he’d taken a bad hit last night.

“Whoa, whoa, you’re still hurt,” Isaac said, indicating the wound with a nod. Boyd seemed to notice as well and stopped struggling.

Scott blinked slowly and sighed. “I’m fine,” he said, not sounding fine. “Gimme a chance, to figure something out. Something that doesn’t have to end with someone else dying.”

Boyd looked from Scott’s eyes, to his wound, to Ethan, and back to Scott. “Alright,” he replied, sincere. Scott took what he could and returned to his seat. Boyd looked disgruntled for most of the remaining bus ride.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Isaac had to commend Stiles for his impromptu, yet somewhat unorthodox, ingenuity. He always seemed to have an idea, no matter the situation, and sometimes it made things worse, and sometimes it made things profoundly better, but he always had a plan somewhere up his sleeve. Getting Coach to actually pull the bus out into the rest stop needed an a miracle or something similar, and lo and behold, Stiles Stilinski delivered. In the form of Jared’s lunch: part 2.

Isaac watched as Allison and Lydia(who had come out of nowhere; he mentally noted to never underestimate those women), with the help of Stiles, drag Scott into the men’s bathroom. Scott was in bad shape; it didn’t take werewolf senses to figure that out. He never healed from his wounds from last night, and if his stomach looked like that, then his back must be smarting as well.

So why were he and Boyd fine?

Isaac leaned his shoulder against a nearby tree and watched the restrooms. Was he waiting for Scott and the others to come back out? He wasn’t sure. Whatever he was doing, he felt like a lost puppy. Waiting for Scott. Looking to Scott for help. Calling out for Scott. Scott seemed to have been on his mind for a while now; too long, it seemed. There was almost a... dependency that had formed. It was this way with Derek for a long time, too. So what was the correlation?

“Don’t think we can’t smell it on you.”

Isaac flinched as he felt Ethan’s breath, hot against his ear. He hadn’t noticed the Alpha sneak up behind him. Isaac swallowed hard.

“Wh-what?” he stammered. “What can you smell?”

“You know what we can smell.” Ethan took a deep breath in through his nose as if to accentuate his point. “We can all smell you getting fat with pups.”

Isaac stiffened. He could feel his blood beginning to heat and he wondered why he ever stopped Boyd from ripping the Alpha’s throat out.

“Even your fellow betas can smell it. Your scent hangs off you like a cloud. I’m surprised the humans can’t smell it, too.” Ethan said every word like an insult, and even though what he was saying wasn’t all that demeaning, it all stung in Isaac’s heart like poison darts.

Scott’s words rang in his ears; he couldn’t kill him, not here. He couldn’t wolf out and not have the whole team knowing what he was. He’d expose himself. He’d expose the others. He’d go back to jail or go back to being a fugitive. He couldn’t do anything as a werewolf, not here.

“You’re getting weak, Lahey. Soon, you won’t be able to fight.” Ethan leaned in so Isaac could practically feel his fangs on the shell of his ear. “You’ll be all swollen up with our Alpha’s pups like the bitch you are.”

Isaac tore away from the tree, fists clenched into tight balls, his claws threatening to protrude any second. Ethan was left behind, laughing at his success to infuriate the young wolf. He needed to calm down, he needed an anchor, he needed Scott--

Where was Scott?

“Where’s Scott?” he came up to Stiles, who was nervously tapping his foot outside the men’s restroom. Stiles jerked his thumb behind him.

“Still in there with Allison.”

Isaac looked back at the crowd of students-- the crowd that was steadily streaming back into the bus. “What are they still doing in there? The team’s getting ready to go.”

“I know, okay, I--” Stiles stopped himself with a hand on his mouth. He was freaking out. “He just needs more time. Allison’s trying to stitch him up, okay? We just--” The coach yelled one more time for the students to get their asses in gear. “We need a distraction.”

Isaac paused and looked back at Ethan. “I can do a distraction.” And that’s when Isaac figured that he didn’t have to do anything as a werewolf; he could do plenty as a human.


	9. Puppy

Isaac wasn’t sure when it stopped being for Scott and started being for him. It may or may not have been somewhere in between the sixth punch and the shit-eating grin Ethan gave him with a mouth full of blood.

Above him, he knew Boyd was smiling; he was getting the violence  he’d wanted after all. But it wasn’t him; it was meek little Isaac who cowered at small spaces and avoided refrigerators. Poor little Isaac who’d taken the punches for so long, was now dishing out a few of his own.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered why Ethan was so okay with getting punched in the face. He quickly snuffed that thought out with a few more right hooks to the Alpha’s jaw.

A crowd, of course, had gathered. High school students has the uncanny ability to flock whenever or wherever there was a fight. They gaped and gasped as Isaac threw punch after tireless punch, none of them daring to get in the middle of it. Coach had come over, too, and was repeatedly yelling his name, but Isaac didn’t care. Each time his fist connected with Ethan’s jaw, he could feel a little bit of it splinter and a little of his knuckle start to give, but by the time he was winging again, they were both already healed.

“Isaac!”

And the world went silent. The crowd stopped cheering, Coach stopped shouting, and Isaac’s fist stalled in mid-air. Scott stood above the scene, smelling like blood and the floor of the bathroom, looking for the world like a disapproving parent would. Isaac straightened himself and immediately Danny went for Ethan like the pawn he didn’t know he was.

Isaac smiled a little in hopes that Scott wouldn’t be too mad; it started out as a distraction for him, and after all, it worked.

“Alright, you cretins, back on the bus!” Coach Finstock blew a sharp note on his whistle and the students steadily filed back onto the newly-sanitized bus. It was another five hours until their next stop; another five hours cooped up in an enclosed space with Ethan, surrounded by students.

At least Lydia and Allison are here, Isaac thought. They were pack, too. Pack meant family, meant comfort.

At least in five hours he could get off that God-forsaken bus.

 

* * *

 

Isaac wished he were back on that God-forsaken bus. It would have been better than the cheap-ass motel they were staying at.

There were roaches in the tub, the blankets were itchy, and the TV literally had nothing on it. They didn’t even put out the little soaps.

“Just for one night,” Isaac whispered, repeating Allison’s words from earlier. Just until the sun came up. Then they were off to the mee and then they would go home. Back to Beacon Hills. Back to Scott’s house.

Isaac laid back on the rickety bed and rubbed his eyes. His head hurt. It had for most of the day. He’d heard Scott complaining about a headache, too. The trip was taking a toll on all of them; Scott’s wound, Ethan, all  on top of worrying about what was happening back home with the Darach. And after the night at the abandoned mall--

The ancient door swung open as Boyd reentered the room. He tossed a package of peanut butter crackers on the bed next to Isaac.

“Here,” he grumbled and sat down on the edge of his own bed. Isaac rolled over and looked at them, then rolled back over.

“I’m not hungry,” he replied. After the day’s occurrences, the last thing he wanted to do was eat.

“You gotta eat.” Boyd didn’t look at him. Instead, he fixed his gaze on an invisible spot on the carpet. He looked tired. Isaac noticed how he had his hand balanced carefully on his thigh.

“Hey, you’re bleeding,” said Isaac, indicating Boyd’s bloody knuckles. “What happened?”

Boyd didn’t respond. He just kept staring at the carpet, unmoving.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Isaac sat up and looked his friend over. Boyd shook his head.

“Nothing,” he murmured. “Headache.” He stood up and headed back to the door that he neglected to close. “I’m gonna go get some ice.”

And he left. Isaac glanced back at the package of crackers. Boyd was right-- he should eat. It wasn’t just him he was eating for.

As he munched on the stale food, Isaac listened to everything that was happening outside. Allison and Lydia were talking in their room. Two students from the track team were having sex. Boyd was out front, like he said, getting ice. But there was something else in the air, too. Something that made it not quite so silent. A hum, a buzz, maybe? Maybe it was the thrum of all the heartbeats in the building collective into one cloud of sound to Isaac’s sensitive ear. Or maybe it was something bigger. Maybe it wasn’t just heartbeats from the now; maybe it heartbeats and voices and shoes scuffings from decades past, of the lives of all the people that had passed through these rooms. It was the hum of life.

And the hum of death.

At some point, Isaac must have dozed off. He opened his eyes when he thought he heard something, a real something, in the room. Was Boyd back? And if he wasn’t, then where was he?

“Boyd?” Isaac rasped, his voice quiet and cautious. He could feel a cold sweat on his brow. No reply. Maybe Boyd was out talking to Scott or Stiles. Just never bothered to come back to the room. That sounded right, so Isaac closed his eyes and tried to fall back to sleep.

But there was that noise again. A clinking. A thumping. It was familiar. It sounded like a memory, or maybe several memories at once.

Isaac moved to the front of his bed and looked around his room. The sound didn’t seem to come from one place, but from everywhere.

“Hand me the 7/16ths wrench,” a voice echoed. A familiar voice. A terrible voice. Isaac stilled like a deer in headlight.

“What the hell? This is the 9/16ths, you moron! You know what the difference is between a seven and a nine is, dumbass?”

“You know the difference between a seven and a nine, it’s a stripped bolt!”

“--A stripped bolt!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t m... What do you want me to do?”

I want you to shut up!

“I want you to shut up-- shut up-- just shut up!” The words that were coming out of Isaac were the words in the room. Or were the words coming out of Isaac the words in the room? “I can’t fix this now! I can’t fix it-- I c-can’t fix--”

“I can’t even keep it closed. Grab the chains.”

What?

“Grab the chains and get it. I said get in.”

The sound of clinking now filled the room. It went from ceiling to floor, from wall to wall, and it filled his ears and his head and his body.

“Are you not hearing me, son? Get in the damn freezer!”

“GET IN!!”

No, said Isaac’s primal instincts kicking in as he scrambled back to the headboard, grabbed the closest shield and defended himself. But it was too late. By the time he lifted his head, he was already inside.

Isaac had learned how to survive in the freezer. He learned that in the freezer, there was no air, and he would run out faster if he screamed. So he didn’t scream. He stayed completely still, curled into a tight ball, and took shallow breaths. He would be let out soon, if his dad hadn’t forgotten about him. Then he would get him the wrench. The right wrench. Then he could fix it. He could fix it.

Until then, Isaac covered with both hands his soft belly to keep them safe from the freezer.

 

* * *

 

Isaac roared back into consciousness, eyes glowing, claws flashing, a few hours later with a fresh burn mark across his wrists. He hit his head on the bottom of the bed as scrambled out, flailing his arms and looking around wildly for the perpetrator.

The perpetrator came in the form of Stiles Stilinski, who was frantically trying to put out a sparkling road flare.

Everything that had come before was a blur; he remembered his dad's voice, angry and menacing with familiar malice. He remembered the disappointment and the fear and the cowardice. Isaac remembered feeling all these things but couldn't remember why.

"What happened...?" he croaked. His voice was sore. Had he been screaming, crying?

"The wolves are going crazy," Stiles replied, trying to smother the flame in a wet towel. "We're thinking it has something to do with the Darach."

"Oh." Isaac nodded. His wrists were healing, but they stung. A quick mental search told him that the rest of his body, inside and out, was unhurt. Thank God.

Boyd stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over his sopping body and looking for the world like he could use a drink. They needed to get out of this hotel.

"We need to get out if this hotel," said Isaac.

"What we need to do is find Scott," Allison pointed out. Where was Scott? Was he going crazy, like Stiles said? He seemed too collected to go nuts like he and Boyd had. Had Ethan been affected? Isaac hoped Ethan had been affected.

"Alright, Boyd, you and puppy stay here while we find Scott." Stiles frantically pointed around the room before he, Allison, and Lydia all ran out of the door.

There was silence in the room for a while as Boyd continued to dry himself off.

"...Did he call me puppy?"

 

* * *

 

The pack was all led into the bus later that night, after Scott washed off the acrid smell of gasoline, and just resolved to sleep there. They all agreed that the motel was cursed and they would never have anything to do with it again.

The revelation that there was wolfsbane in the coach's whistle did nothing to hamper this opinion, although it did raise several other questions. The darach had access to the coach’s whistle, so that meant it had to be either a student or a student.

It was someone close. Knowing that was almost painful, that this killer was just that much out of reach.


	10. Pants

Isaac had always liked nice clothes. Sweaters, scarves, boots, jackets... Every time he’d go to the department store with his dad he’d always wander over to the menswear and look at all the nicely dressed mannequins. Of course, his dad never got him anything nice like what they were wearing; Isaac was stuck usually with hand-me-downs from distant cousins or cheap clearance clothes. He always told himself, at least I have clothes.

But when he joined Derek’s pack, there was hope yet for his fashion sense. Erica, in her newfound confidence, had developed a new style of her own and significantly looser pockets. Most people failed to realize that Erica was in a similar situation financially as Jackson; her father being an insurance agent had no shortage of money, and now that there were no medical bills to pay, their family could afford to do things like give their recently socially-transformed daughter money. Once Isaac was over with being a fugitive, she had decided it was time for him to get some new clothes, seeing as all of his and his father’s things were repossessed by the bank.

Erica’s parents were a bit disturbed, of course, by the sudden shopping sprees, but this was slightly overshadowed by the fact that her epilepsy had somehow vanished.

But now Erica was gone. And all Isaac had left of her were those nice clothes she had bought him. And now he couldn’t even wear them.

He already outgrown at least one pair of his jeans. The rest would be soon to follow. And seeing as Isaac was a homeless, unemployed, pregnant student, he was sure he wouldn’t be getting any new pants anytime soon. He was reduced to borrowing clothes.

The only drawback was that Isaac happened to be an unfortunate few inches taller than most of his friends. Most, but not all.

“Hey, Boyd, can I borrow some pants?”

His fellow beta looked up incredulously from his curly fries. Isaac sat awkwardly twiddling his thumbs in the seat across. Boyd raised an eyebrow.

“Pants?”

“Yeah. Stretchy ones, preferably.”

An odd silence formed between the two betas. Isaac avoided eye contact while Boyd just poked at his curly fries. Finally, he sighed in resignation and looked up at Isaac.

“Sure. I’ll drop them off after school.”

Isaac grinned and slapped Boyd on the shoulder. “Thanks, buddy.”

It was worth pointing out again that Isaac was fond of Boyd. Being part of the same pack must have had some impact on their relationship; there was a sort of instinct to want to be close to members of your pack. That’s why Isaac preferred staying with Scott; he was pack, so there was a familiarity. Plus, he trusted Scott. But with Boyd, there was a different trust. It was like if he fell back, Isaac knew he’d be there to catch him. Sure, Boyd was aggressive, and sure, he was a little distant, but he was pack, and that meant more than family to Isaac.

Also, he was the only was taller than Isaac. A guy had to get his stretchy pants from somewhere.

Boyd did as he said and dropped them off later Scott’s(Scott himself had gone out to deliver dinner to his mom at the hospital), only instead of a pair of sweatpants, it was a barrage of pants; jeans, khaki, shorts, and eventually, sweatpants.

“What’s all this...?” Isaac asked, confused, while rifling through the garbage bag of clothing his fellow beta had brought him. There were even a couple shirts.

“Clothes,” Boyd said simply. “It’s all stuff that Erica bought me that was too small. I figured it would fit you just fine.” Isaac didn’t need to look up to see the bitter frown on Boyd’s face. Talking about Erica was a touchy subject-- she was the first person Boyd had let get that close to him. No one reacted stronger than he did when they lost her.

Isaac stood up and smiled at Boyd. “Well, thanks a lot. I’ll make good use of all this.” He held up the bag and Boyd grinned a little bit. They shared a mutual nod and he left without another word. When you were talking with Boyd, there wasn’t all that much actual talking.

Isaac headed upstairs to what had become his makeshift bedroom. Ms. McCall, with Scott’s help, had set it up for him. It wasn’t much other than a spare mattress with sheets, a chest-of-drawers, a mirror, and a desk, but it was better than any couch. Isaac cried when he saw it and that’s when they all realized that the pregnancy hormones had kicked in.

Isaac had been a lot more emotional as of late, he realized. He seemed more shaken by all the deaths and kidnappings, more anxious about the Alphas, more stressed about school. Being near his pack helped a lot, but Isaac had a lot of classes where he was all by his himself. No level-headed Stiles, comforting Scott, or brave Allison, and that’s when he got worried.

And to make matters worse, he had to pee practically every class period. That wore thin on some teachers pretty fast.

“Mr. Lahey, I’m going to have to deny your request,” Ms. Blake said sweetly one morning. “You’ve asked to go to the bathroom every day as of late. I think you can manage to sit through biology once this week.” And with that, she went back to the slideshow.

As there had been no proper replacement for Mr. Harris yet, Ms. Blake was stuck subbing for biology, an interesting subject for an English teacher to instruct. And while Isaac had to admit she wasn’t bad on the eyes, there was something about her that seemed... impersonal. She seemed detached from everything, like she was below it. Or above it.

Nevertheless, Isaac was going to be late to his next class due to a detour to the bathroom. However, he would soon discover, he would never make it to his next class.

Scott barreled into him as the halls were emptying into classrooms. He didn’t have any books on him and his next class was in the opposite direction.

“Whoa, sorry,” Scott cried, steadying the two of them. “Sorry, sorry, uh, are you hurt? Did I hit you?” He proceeded to look Isaac up and down and flounder like a mother hen.

“Scott-- Scott!” Isaac pried his fellow beta’s hands off him, “I’m fine. Where’re you going?”

“Uh, I need to go, Deaton’s about to-- I mean, he’s the next--” Scott searched, internally and externally, for the words to say, but Isaac got the picture. After what had happened the previous night, with the two doctors, Deaton being the next sacrifice wasn’t that much of a stretch.

“What do you need to do?”

“I need to leave,” Scott said, looking more worried by the second. But then he paused and looked up at Isaac. “Actually, you need to leave, too.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, no, actually, I want you to go to Derek’s. Boyd, too. Cora said something earlier,” Scott waved vaguely in the air, “something about the Alpha pack. They’re gonna attack. Tonight.”

So Derek needed backup. Well, any reason to leave school early. Isaac nodded. “Go,” he said, pushing Scott in the direction of the door. He needed to find Boyd.

 

* * *

 

“What is this supposed to accomplish, again?”

“Just shove it in my face, c’mon. We don’t have a lot of time.”

Boyd stood with Isaac, down the hall from the nurse’s office, with a bottle of women’s perfume in his hand(strawberry passion breeze). Boyd looked a little skeptic and sounded even more so.

“I dunno about this,” he said, twirling the bottle in his hands. “Can this really make you puke? Just like that?”

“I can smell differently now,” Isaac explained in a rush, “different than before. Like, certain smells are so strong, they make me nauseous. Lately it’s been perfume, and we need to get to Derek’s quick, so I need you to spray me right in the face.”

Getting sick on purpose was probably the lowest thing on Isaac’s bucket list, but they needed a reason to get out of school, and if he could present irrefutable proof, then all the better.

“Can’t we just leave school? I mean, Scott-”

“Boyd,” Isaac locked eyes with the taller beta, “if you don’t spray with that perfume right now, I’m going to rip your throat out.” He hadn’t meant to sound so violent, but they were in a rush and lately he’d felt it was easier to get angry. Boyd shook his head, raised the bottle, and pressed on the nozzle.

The effects were immediate. The stuff was potent, and even if he weren’t pregnant, even if he didn’t have super-werewolf smell, he probably still would’ve gagged.

“Omigod,” Isaac groaned, leaning over. He could feel the smell of fake strawberries swimming in his head and rearranging his organs and constricting his throat and he reached out to Boyd for support.

“Did it work?” Boyd asked, taking Isaac’s arm.

“Oh yeah, it worked,” Isaac managed to squeak out between gags. “Now get me to the nurse’s before I vomit all over you.”

Boyd didn’t need to be told twice. He slung Isaac’s arm over his massive shoulders and walked him the fifteen feet to the nurse’s.

 

* * *

 

“Go back to school.”

Isaac smiled as he and Boyd entered Derek’s downtown loft. His alpha probably heard them coming from down the block.

“Well, actually, we can’t,” Isaac called into the space. “Well, I can’t. Boyd here is my, uh... getaway. See, I’ve come down with an incredibly sudden bout of nausea.” He smirked when he saw Derek perched at the top of the staircase, looking down as his betas drew nearer.

“We’re here to protect you,” Boyd explained. Their alpha came down, an incredulous, but amused, look on his face.

“You’re here to protect me?” he asked, looking between the two of them. “Well, I’m in trouble.” He stopped in front of Isaac and raised an eyebrow. “And what do you mean ‘we?’ You shouldn’t even be leaving the house.”

“If you’re done doubting our competence, Boyd here came up with a plan,” Isaac retorted shortly. he flipped lazily through a book on the table, not really reading it. He had the suspicion that Derek just kept it there because it looked important.

“I was thinking about the time Gerard had me and Erica locked up,” Boyd knelt down and unzipped the duffle he’d brought in with him, “and tied up with electrical wires, pushing a current through us. I was thinking of how we could do something like that.” Out of the duffle came a bundle of thick wires. “But on a bigger scale.”

Isaac looked from Boyd to Derek, searching for a reaction. Derek seemed... genuinely impressed in his betas. After a brief contemplation period, he gave a quick nod and they went to work.

Boyd and Isaac got busy hooking the wires up to main power in the loft while Derek grabbed a hose and started turning the floor into a concrete swimming pool.

“Why is there even a hose here?” Isaac asked, watching the floor get saturated.

“This place used to be a factory building,” Derek explained as he set up wooden slats for them to walk on. “They needed a quick and easy way to clean up when the day was done. We’re just lucky they decided to keep that feature when they turned these into lofts.”

Across the room, Boyd flipped a switch and the lights came back on. That meant the wires were live and they had to stay on the slats lest they be electrocuted when Boyd threw them into the now four-inch-deep pool that was Derek’s apartment.

Isaac looked over the room. That wire had crackled with electricity as soon as it hit the surface of the water. Now it was quiet, like a silent killer. “Will this kill them?”

Boyd sighed. “God, I hope so.”


	11. Odd

It wasn’t the setting the wires or even the fighting off the Alphas that was the hardest. It was the waiting.

All three wolves sat on slats around the room, glancing occasionally at the steel door when they thought they heard something. It always turned out to be nothing but their nerves.

Isaac leaned against a pillar with his forearms resting on his knees. He was doing the most dangerous thing you could do before a fight; thinking.

“Hey, y’know, maybe Scott’s right,” he called out, picking at his thumbnail. “About this whole... not fighting thing.” He swung his head around to look at Derek. “Maybe there are ways to solve this without losing more lives.”

“If you’re nervous about fighting the Alphas, you can leave,” Derek stated blandly. He kept his eyes on the door like it could budge at any moment.

“It’s not that--” Isaac paused, “well, it’s a little like that, but what I’m saying is that maybe Scott’s idea for peace isn’t so far fetched.” He met Derek’s eyes briefly and went back to playing with his fingernails.

“Like I said,” his alpha said loudly, “you can leave. Deaton told you to lay off the fighting, remember? Something could happen.” He said that last sentence quietly. That made Isaac mentally pause. He knew Derek was capable of showing concern, but rarely did he ever outwardly express it. Most of the time, he was like a statue(his carved-from-marble cheekbones didn’t help); but sometimes, when his guard was down or he thought no one was listening, he let that tender emotion slip out. That soft spot, that protectiveness or wistfulness or whatever it was that reminded Isaac that he could be human.

Despite outward appearances and aggression, Isaac had the feeling that his alpha was a lot more attached to them than they were he. Even when he’d kicked Isaac out that pouring night, there was a bitterness about him. He regretted everything he was doing, from the shouting to the glass, knowing that it would trigger Isaac, but he was doing it for his own good. What that good was, Isaac wasn’t so sure, but he was sure that Derek had all their best interests at heart.

And that’s why, after what would happen that night, Isaac understood when Derek ran away for days with no word or sign that he was safe. He needed time after losing a limb like Boyd.

 

* * *

 

“That’s odd.”

“And that’s never a good thing to hear from your doctor.”

Deaton chuckled as he pushed up Isaac’s shirt and felt around the soft skin of his abdomen. The skin that was becoming progressively more and more taught each day. That was why Isaac had gone to Deaton; things seemed too fast. He knew that the term for a werewolf was significantly shorter than that of a human’s, but this felt, somehow... wrong.

“Well, I say that because you seem to be in an interesting predicament,” Deaton started to explain. “I’m surprised you didn’t come in sooner, actually.” His fingers skirted the edge of Isaac’s bump with a firm, but careful probing gesture.

It had gotten big. Big to the point where Isaac wasn’t sure how long he could keep going to school without people noticing. It wasn’t exactly considered normal to gain thirty pounds in just a few weeks, not to mention carrying it all in one area. And it had gotten round. Before recently, the bump had been sort of lumpy, like how you would expect fat to be; now, it was taking a rounder, smoother appearance.

“Why is it... doing that?” Isaac asked, leaning back and putting his weight on his hands while Deaton prodded at him.

“I’m not entirely sure,” the vet replied, “but I have a theory.” He stood back and met Isaac’s eyes. “You remember how I said that it was only alphas that could impregnate a male beta? Well, you, as we now know, thanks to Derek’s keen senses, were impregnated by _the_ alpha. Deucalion. His seed must have been so potent, so powerful, being the ‘demon wolf’ as he says he is, that the growth process has actually sped up.”

Isaac cringed marginally at the word “seed.” It made him think of what was inside him as a parasite. Which, considering the circumstance, it sort of was. Isaac slid his shirt back down and leaned forward with his back straight. There were very few positions that kept him comfortable nowadays.

“So what does that mean... for me?” He didn’t need to say it out loud for Deaton to catch the underlying, “am I going to be okay.”

“It simply means that your twins are growing faster than they normally would,” replied Deaton. “Your body as a werewolf is extremely adaptable. It can heal from wounds known to kill normal humans within seconds, transform and augment at your will, metabolize at incredible rates-- it can handle a little extra growth.” Deaton gave Isaac a warm smile. It comforted the teen knowing that he and his babies(weird) were in capable hands; Deaton knew his way around a werewolf in ways that Isaac could never imagine. Being the Hale’s emissary would do that.

Isaac hopped off the steel slab of a table and straightened out his shirt and jacket. His ear twitched as he heard Scott and Stiles enter through the back door. The dynamic duo clambered into the room in their usual graceful fashion.

“Hey, Isaac!” Stiles exclaimed, throwing his backpack into the corner. “How’re those pups doin’--” He made a move to touch Isaac’s stomach but the werewolf caught him in a dead stop by the wrist. “Yeeeah, okay, then!” Stiles pried his hand free and backed up a little.

“Don’t be offended Stiles,” Deaton said, leaning his elbows on the examination table. “Pregnant werewolves are usually violently protective of their young.” He glanced up at Isaac. “Whether they mean to be or not.”

After a beat, Isaac realized that that was a hint. “Oh, uh, sorry,” he mumbled. “I guess I’m still a little, uh, wacked out from… from the, uh…”

He didn’t need to say it. There was enough weight to his words that they all got the point. The young brushed his hands down the front of his shirt until he felt the soft swell of his stomach and tore his hands back to his sides. It felt odd to… touch it.

“So, um,” Scott piped up, breaking the silence, “we just stopped by to tell you that I can’t work tonight.”

Deaton knitted his brow. “Well, that’s fine, Scott, but do you mind me asking why?”

He fumbled for a second, possibly deciding whether to tell a complete lie or not, and seemed to stop somewhere in between. “I need to do some… detective work.” He nodded marginally, approving of his own word choice. What a nerd.

The doctor gave a small smile in return. “Alright. But just be careful, alright? Don’t go poking your nose into something you might not be prepared to see,” he warned. All the teenagers in the room exchanged glances at Deaton’s cryptic remark.

Isaac joined his friends in venturing out of the building, although he wasn’t so keen on getting into any detective work just then. It’d been a hard couple of nights(and weeks, and months), and all he really wanted to do was sleep.

He walked out into the cloudy afternoon light; there was another storm on the way. That was odd; Ms. McCall had the weather turned on that morning and it didn’t say anything about rain. It was almost like, ever since the murders started, natur had been rebelling against itself.

“Hey, Isaac, buddy,” Stiles called from his Jeep, “you wanna tag along?” Scott was leaning against Allison’s car and looked at him expectantly. Isaac’s first instinct was to go with Scott, but he had a bad feeling.

“I dunno,” the werewolf said worriedly, “I might just go head back to Scott’s.” He turned around and started the small trek back to his temporary home. It was only a ten minute walk, and besides, he was a werewolf; what could go wrong?

A hand gripped his arm and prevented him from going any further. His senses told him it was Scott, but his claws retracted a little nevertheless.

“Isaac, you can’t go out alone, you know that,” his fellow beta said in a low voice. his tone wasn’t out of strictness or discipline, but anxiety. It made Isaac feel coddled.

“I actually think I can, Scott,” he replied sharply, but not tugging his arm out Scott’s grip(almost like he could, but didn’t want to). “You know, the whole werewolf thing? I don’t have much to worry about.”

“You know the whole Alpha pack thing? And the being pregnant thing? I think you have more to worry about than you think.”

Isaac sighed and glanced back at Allison, who was looking out of her windshield in obvious concern. They cared for him, that was obvious, but he was getting a little more than tired of this babying thing.

With another, longer sigh, Isaac gave up and trudged over to Allison’s car with Scott. They all waved to Stiles as they drove off into town.


	12. Bonding

The fact existed that Isaac was, indeed, a being of the supernatural. He could transform physical aspects of his body at will, metabolize at astonishing rates, and he was affected by lunar phases. He was what horror novelists wrote about, what children were afraid might be in their closets, why hikers were afraid to go out at night. In short, he was scary.

And he was currently huddled in the corner of Allison’s couch, keeping a trained eye on a stay-at-home dad.

Chris Argent wasn’t someone to take lightly, however. Yes, he was getting up there in age, and yeah, he said that he’d sworn off the werewolf hunting thing. Be that as it may, Chris Argent still had a lot of guns and had killed a lot of people. In short, he was also scary.

Isaac cursed Scott and Allison for dropping him off like a kid at day care. Whatever detective work they were doing, it was obviously too dangerous for poor little baby Isaac who obviously had no idea how to use his razor sharp fangs and claws and heightened senses. They thought it was a much better idea to stick him in the same room as Allison’s supernaturally homicidal dad.

“We won’t take long,” she’d assured him, “maybe an hour. Just… try not to do anything to provoke him. He’s been on edge lately.” With a nervous clench of her fists, she followed Scott down the hall to the elevator, and Isaac was alone. Well, he wasn’t quite alone, but that was the problem.

The original plan was to sleep off everything that had happened. The fights, the storms, Boyd… But apparently Isaac was too frail to go anywhere alone, even home.

No, not home, he told himself. It was just temporary. Don’t get attached. Bad things happen when you get attached.

Isaac jumped two feet in the air as Chris rounded the corner with some files in his hands. He felt his wolf stir a little and had to suppress the urge to transform. With the added protectiveness of a parent, being in the home of a known threat wasn’t easy. The hunter stood back a little himself, but allowed an amused smile to let slip.

“Did I scare you?” he asked, relaxing his shoulders. It took Isaac a minute, but he, too, sunk back a little. The teen shook his head. “Good.”

Chris ventured into his office and didn’t come out for a bit. Isaac tried to pick up on what he was doing, but all he could hear was the shuffling of papers and turning on and off of lamps. Maybe the hunter had backed off a little and was leading a normal life. In a tiny corner of his mind, Isaac envied his ability to step back from the supernatural, to take a break.

Time went on and Isaac stayed in his position on the couch and Chris stayed in his office. It felt like hours, but when Isaac checked his phone, Scott and Allison had only been gone for twenty minutes. Isaac sighed.

The couch was very comfortable, but not so much when you’re scrunched in the corner of it for twenty solid minutes and the urge to pee is getting stronger. Also, Isaac hadn’t eaten in four hours. Now, just being a growing boy made him hungry enough, but on top of being a werewolf and a pregnant one at that, he was starting to get a little ravenous.

Chris was staring at him. Isaac felt it like a feather on the back of his neck. He turned around and the two stared at each other like two opposing hawks.

“You’ve been twitching for the last five minutes,” the hunter remarked, arms crossed. Had he? “Bathroom’s around the corner, y’know.”

Isaac took that as an invitation and raced around the corner. His ears picked up on Chris’s amused laughing as the man shuffled around the house. Alright, so maybe he wasn’t so bad. But Isaac would still be sure to keep an eye on him.

The peeing fifteen times a day thing was getting annoying, and Isaac grumbled to himself as he exited the bathroom. The whole ordeal was getting to be a bit much. Sleeping more often, emotions out of control, hungry all the time--

The werewolf’s stomach growled loudly as soon as he thought of it and he put his hands over it an a vain attempt at silencing it’s cries. But unfortunately, one didn’t need a wolf’s hearing to hear it, and Chris turned his attention immediately back to the teen.

“You hungry?”

And Isaac could nothing but nod in earnest.

As it turns out, Mr. Argent was actually a pretty good cook. It only took him ten minutes to whip up some pesto pasta and garlic bread and the two sat down at the most unorthodox dinner ever. The retired werewolf hunter and the pregnant teenage werewolf. It sounded like the beginning to a bad young adult fantasy novel.

Isaac attacked the food with predatory violence, so much that Chris paused with bread halfway to his mouth and watched. The two locked eyes and there was that silence again, weighing them down through cultural differences. Chris laughed.

“...What?” Isaac asked, looking around him for something he’d done wrong.

The hunter shook his head. “It’s just, ah… You remind me of my wife, actually, when she was pregnant with Allison.” He smiled fondly and lowered his bread back to his plate. “She scared me a little sometimes, with just how ferocious she could be.” Chris spent a moment lost in the memories of his late wife. Isaac had come to understand that this was the same woman that had plotted his murder several times over, and the murder and/or torture of the rest of his pack, and the manipulation of Allison. But with the way Mr. Argent spoke about her just then, Isaac couldn’t feel anything but pity.

“I’m sorry,” the teen managed to squeak out awkwardly. He himself had experienced loss before, in greater magnitudes than any sixteen year old ever should. His parents, his brother, his friends, his teachers, all gone, most of them in the last year. Sometimes he didn’t know how he held himself up, especially when the effects of his father’s “treatment” still lingered. He was afraid of the dark, small spaces, raised voices, violent gestures, the whole nine yards. He should’ve been seeing eight counselors a week and be prescribed medicine, but something kept him going. His hand lingered unconsciously to his stomach and stayed there, his body reminding him that he still had purpose. That if there were any reason to keep fighting, it was this. Fuck the struggle for good and evil; he had two new lives on the way.

Chris caught the action and his face softened into a smile.

“You know, if someone told me three years ago that I’d be having dinner with a young werewolf and not have a gun strapped to my thigh, I’d have probably shot them.” Chris laughed to himself and Isaac glanced up. Not the best conversation starter, but at least he was trying.

“Well, if someone told me three years ago that I’d be a werewolf, I don’t think I’d do something so drastic as shooting them, but I’d probably laugh in their face,” the teen replied. The two men shared a good laugh and silently bonded over their differences. They spent the rest of the night, or until Scott and Allison got home, in content silence.


	13. The Whole Picture

Scott was dead.

Well, not yet, but he would be soon; Isaac would make sure of it.

Isaac was off school. It had been decided that the babies were simply getting too big to pass of as fat, especially in the locker rooms. Besides that, he couldn’t compete; the stamina just wasn’t there anymore. His body was directing it’s energy towards feeding and keeping the twins safe, it didn’t have any to waste on things like sports or school anymore.

Allison was also off school. However, nobody knew why, and everyone was too busy to go check except for poor Isaac.

“I just need you to check on her, just real quick,” Scott’s frantic voice said through the phone. “I just… I need to know that she’s alright.” Isaac’s fellow beta sighed with too much weight for a junior in high school. Scott had so much on his shoulders, and on top of that took responsibility for anything bad that ever happened.

The Alphas had been getting restless. The Darach was more active. The commemoratory recital was tonight. Scott didn’t need to be worried about Allison, too.

“Yeah, alright,” Isaac resigned, setting down his homework(which Scott or Stiles were always so gracious to bring him; having babies is no excuse not to excell). He could practically feel Scott’s gratitude over the phone.

“Omigosh, thank you dude, so much,” he said, like an over excited puppy. “I will make this up to you, I promise, I’ll rub your feet every night, or your back, or something. Thanks.” Click.

And that’s how Isaac ended up staring up at the seven-story monstrosity that was Allison’s building. His finger paused at the little white box that had all the buzzers for each apartment. If there was something up there, keeping Allison from going to school, then the buzzer would be a tip off. Or, if Allison didn’t want anyone to see her, then she’d hear the buzzer and take off. Scott also mentioned something about being discreet. Hard to be discreet when you’re ringing the doorbell.

Isaac trudged around the building and saw that each floor had a pseudo-balcony outside of what would be Allison’s room. He groaned. Climbing balconies hadn’t been on the to-do list. He wasn’t even sure he could do it with his added girth. He jumped on top of a dumpster and swung himself onto a balcony to test it. Sure enough, his reflexes were still intact and he made it up just fine.

Now for the other six stories.

As soon as Isaac got a rhythm going, it wasn’t that hard. He’d seen Derek do something like this multiple times; he just had to be careful of his stomach. He had a close call on the fourth floor when someone almost saw him and he had to hang there for a while, but other than that he made it to Allison’s balcony without a hitch.

The werewolf hoisted himself up, all 130 pounds plus 50 pounds extra, over the iron bar and crouched there for a while, getting his breath back. Being covert was hard.

He listened for a while. He heard walking; designer boots. The closet opening, the clinking of knives. Yeah, Allison.

He reached for the window latch and gave it a tug but never made it to a standing position. As he drew his hand back, a cramp took hold and he was stuck crouching on the windowsill as it passed.

The first thing Isaac noticed was that it wasn’t like the other cramps; they were short, beginning and ending in under a minute, with the same intensity of pain all the way through. But this one had build up. This one started at the base of his belly and climbed up to his ribcage, leaving ripples of pain in it’s wake. It knocked the breath out of the young werewolf and it was a while before he would be able to regain in composure. He never had the chance, though; an arm whipped around from inside, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him(pretty violently) inside.

Isaac shielded his stomach as best he could as he was forced onto the ground with a knife at his throat. Yeah, Allison.

“Isaac?” she asked, shocked and a little angry. “What do you think you’re doing? I could’ve hurt you!”

Biting back a groan, Isaac managed to reply, “you weren’t at school.”

“Did Scott send you to check up on me?”

“Uh… Maybe he’s worried about you.”

Allison gave a deadly smirk. “I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah,” Isaac clenched his teeth as he tried to keep his breathing under control, “I’ve noticed. More than once.” He nodded to the knife held up against his skin. The huntress opened her mouth in belated schock.

“Omigosh, I’m sorry,” she flailed, scrambling to get off of Isaac and help him into a sitting position. “I didn’t actually hurt you, did I?”

He shook his head. “No, just…” he gasped once again as the cramp continued to ebb, “it was just one hell of a climb.”

Allison widened her eyes and glanced back at the window. “Isaac! You climbed up the building?!”

“There were balconies?”

“Isaac, you have to be more careful, please, especially since…”

She couldn’t say it. Isaac himself could hardly say it. They were almost here and everyone was too afraid to acknowledge their existence.

That was a frightening thought. They were almost here.

“Well, as long as you went through all the trouble,” Allison raised her eyebrows and smiled in an unbelievable way, like she couldn’t believe Isaac actually did it, “I have something to show you. It’s kind of… complicated.”

She helped the werewolf onto her bed and she lunged into the story of finding the papers on her dad’s desk, and the blacklight, and how she showed it all to Scott already, and how they got stuck in the closet together--

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Isaac interjected, “too many details. Maybe get back to whole map thing.”

“Oh, okay, yeah,” Allison giggled nervously and chewed her fingernail.

In short, it seemed as though her dad knew entirely too much for someone so seemingly detached from the situation. With all of the details she’d described, it sounded like he was--

“Oooooh, okay, okay, wait, so your dad’s the killer,” Isaac exclaimed as the two made their way into the office.

“No,” Allison replied, “I mean, I don’t think he is, at least.” She paused. “I hope he isn’t.”

“You hope he isn’t the serial killing dark druid who’s been slashing people’s throats,” Isaac summed up for her, to realize the gravity of her uncertainty.

“Yeah.”

“Right.”

“Do you wanna help me or not?” Allison made her way around her father’s desk and Isaac followed.

“Yeah, I’m just-- just trying to get all the cards on the table, here.”

The huntress picked up a white cannister and flipped a switch; a blacklight. She shone it over a large map of Beacon Hills that was taking up most of the space on the desk.

“See the marks?” she asked, waving the light over certain places where, yes, there was a mark or two. “There are five more bodies to be found, but it doesn’t say who the bodies are.”

While Allison leaned over the map to study it, Isaac thought on what he’d said. All the cards on the table, huh? He took a few steps back while keeping his eyes trained on the marks.

“What are you doing?” Allison asked, looking from him to the map.

“Something I learned from my father… If you take a step back, look at the whole picture, sometimes you see things you wouldn’t notice if you were… up close, and you’re looking into the details.”

He kept looking, glancing from one point to the next, trying to discern a pattern, any pattern. Allison did the same and backed to Isaac’s shoulder. He glanced down at her newly-washed hair that fell in soft curls over her back. It was nice. She was nice.

“Look at that-- you see that?” she asked, her voice picking up. Isaac looked again at the map and didn’t see anything worth noting. That is, until Allison took the map away to reveal a large design making up most of the desk face.

“Whoa,” he whispered, “what is that?” It was four swirls surrounding one big one, carved and polished into the fine wood.

“Five-fold knot,” replied Allison shortly. “It’s a Celtic symbol.” She traced her finger along the edges of it. There was obviously some significance to it, but what?

There was a glint on the table from the lamp and it caught something in one of the knots. Were those letters? Isaac grabbed hold of Allison’s hand and guided the blacklight over the knot.

“Virgins,” he read. The first sacrifices. The two thought on it for a moment before moving the blacklight to another knot.

“Warriors,” Allison went on. Another group of kidnappings and murders.

“Healers.”

“Philosophers.”

They moved to the center knot. “Guardians,” Isaac whispered. Allison glance over at him for a reaction and he met her eye. What did it mean that her dad had a key of all of the sacrifices? That he’d been tracking the bodies, that he knew where one was going to be?

The two teenagers were pretty sure whatever the answer was, they weren’t going to like it.


	14. Killer

"Mr Westover missing just happened -Stiles S[4:46pm]".

A fresh lead. A new sacrifice. It was painful to think of someone who'd been teaching them about the revolutionary war just the other day being kidnapped as progress, but they had nothing else to go on. Just the irrefutable proof that Mr. Argent was killing people. For what reason, they still needed to find out, but for the time being, there was another person missing and they had the tools to find out where he was going to be held.

The smell of ink in one spot of the map was fresher than the rest. As Allison scanned the paper with the blacklight, Isaac spotted an X that was still wet on the page.

"There," he said, pointing, "that mark's new."

"Then that's where he is." Allison took a picture of the area with her phone. "And that's where I'll be going."

Isaac held his hands out in front of him, "no, no, wait, you can't go alone. You just found out that your dad's a killer."

"Yeah, and that's why I'm going alone. Isaac, you can't come, it's too dangerous-"

"Okay, for one, I'm tired of people telling me that's it's too dangerous, or I should hang back, or its too risky. In case you haven't noticed, I'm a werewolf, Allison. I can handle myself. You're the fragile one here-"

And just like that, Isaac was pressed as far up against the wall as his belly would allow, both his hands bound to his back in a vice grip with a knife against the back of his neck.

"If that's what I can do, think of what my father could do!" Allison warned, her breath hot against the werewolf's ear. "Whether you like it or not, you're vulnerable right now, and you need to stay back before you get you or someone else hurt."

Isaac grunted and thumped the wall with his forehead in frustration. Allison, satisfied, withdrew her knife and back off.

As soon as she was just far enough away, Isaac spun around and pinned her arms to her waist, his claws just centimeters away from her jugular vein. He heard her heartbeat speed up as she struggled to bring the knife up to defend herself, or use her legs, but the werewolf had her in a tight hold and she wasn't getting away.

"And I'm telling you," he growled into her hair, "that I can fight, no matter how much you want to be the hero. I'm coming with you." Allison sighed in indignation and simply relaxed her body. Isaac let go, slowly, and withdrew his claws. He wouldn't let her go alone, even if it was her father. There was no telling how much remorse he did or didn't have left.

* * *

By the time they rolled up to the abandoned building, the sun was below the trees and Isaac's anxiety had gotten the better of him. Allison's car rolled to a stop in the gravel about a quarter mile away from their destination, to be sure that they weren't spotted. The pissed-off and scared huntress put the car into park and they both just stared for a while.

"Really don't think we should call Scott?" asked Isaac tentatively. He was already on thin ice just being here, and it wouldn't help to mention that he was starting to ache again. There was no parkour to excuse it this time; Isaac himself was starting to worry about the source of the cramps. What if it meant something was wrong? Was this a giant hint that he was missing?

Allison sighed and pulled out a dagger. How many of those was she hiding? And where? "Stay behind me, and stay quiet," she warned, and got out of the car. Isaac lagged behind for a moment, massaging his stomach and having second thoughts.

"Ooooh, this is so not gonna end well."

Allison led the way into the building, where it was dark and cold and the perfect place to sacrifice a history teacher.

"FYI," Isaac murmured, "if your dad tries to kill me, I'm gonna defend myself." He fidgeted with the sleeves of his coat. Boyd's coat. He'd pretty much resigned himself to wearing mostly the stuff Boyd had donated to him. He didn't want to, but he needed to.

"If my dad tries to kill you, you'll be dead," Allison replied bluntly. She glanced back at him, dagger still at hand. "He won't though, he doesn't kill innocents." Her gaze flashed to Isaac's belly. "We follow a code." As she was walking away, Isaac could tell she didn't want him to hear the extra, "at least I thought we did," tacked on at the end.

They ventured into the middle of a great room where moonlight poured in and sounds and smells lingered. Noises floated through the rafters, their sources indiscernible. It smelled stale, like rust and rain and-

Isaac reached out and grabbed Allison's arm. She spun around and immediately looked him over for damage.

"I smell blood," he whispered, looking her dead in the eye. It was a strong smell, getting stronger as they went further into the building.

"Where? Which direction?"

"I dunno… I'm not that good at this yet." While pregnancy seemed to have heightened his already heightened senses, it did nothing to hone them unless it was a craving of his or a nausea instigator. He focused his nose on the scent and mentally searched the room. "I think its…" He raised a finger to point at the door on the opposite end of the room. He needn't finish his sentence; Allison was already headed in that direction, twirling her dagger to a more offensive position.

"Allison… Allison, wait-!" He warned her, but she kept moving, heedless of his words. they didn't know what exactly they were up against. Whatever it was, though, it was dangerous.

Their eyes were, by now, fully adjusted to the dark, and it didn't take werewolf sight to see the struggling shape, strung up to a gate, with a dark figure moving behind it. Its eyes glowed with an unholy light.

There was another scent hanging in the air, something stern, something like gunpowder, something familiar...

"Allison, don't-!" Isaac called after her as soon as he recognized the scent. Almost immediately after, Chris Argent burst from the shadows, guns blazing.

"Get down!"

Isaac just managed to tackle Allison to the ground as the first shot rang. It was soon followed by a second, third, fourth; a barrage of shooting rained down on whatever had been attacking Mr. Westover, which was apparently not Mr. Argent.

The two teens watched as Chris skillfully swapped his magazines for new ones, lighting the place up with a new round of bullets.

"Help him!" the man called, and Allison obeyed with efficiency so swift one might've thought she'd gotten up before the command was even given. Isaac caught up as he struggled to get off the ground. His ears rang with the residual sound of gunshots and ricochets and all the excitement was starting to take a toll on his body. He knelt for a while on the cool concrete, letting it sooth him.

"It's Mr. Westover," Allison called back from where she was examining the man on the gate. Even from meters away, Isaac could smell that the man was already dead.

"Our history teacher," Isaac explained breathlessly to Mr. Argent, who had come over to give him a hand up.

"They're wrong," the huntress reasoned, realization washing over her as she turned adamantly away from the body, "it's not guardians as in law enforcement…"

"No, its not. It's philosophers," Mr. Argent gave a pitiful look at the dead man, "as in teachers."

All three exchanged glances before Allison fumbled for her phone. "I need to call Scott."

* * *

"I'm fine."

"No. Sit."

"I told you, I-"

"Sit."

Mr. Argent pointed to a concrete ledge with a stern resolve and kept his eyes locked on the petulant werewolf. Isaac sighed and finally gave in, slumping onto the cold surface dramatically. Now he saw where Allison got it from.

It did feel better not have all the weight on his heels anymore, though. Isaac had to admit to himself that walking was becoming a harder task to accomplish as the days dragged on. And the new acquisition of the cramps didn't make things any easier. But being told to sit like a dog was a little over the top.

Isaac didn't dare challenge either of the Argents just then, however. They both appeared to be seething as Allison stood, arms crossed, away from her father, who was collecting shells and slugs from the ground.

"You've been tracking the killer on your own this whole time," the daughter accused, offended.

"And I was this," Chris held up two fingers to represent 'this,' "close. I caught him, but the two of you-"

"So, it's my fault… that you've been lying to me for the past two months?" Allison stared, unbelieving, at her father.

"You wanna tally up the lies, Allison? I don't think you're gonna come out ahead in that one."

"Hey, just a thought," Isaac interrupted, "but maybe right now isn't the best time for a little… family meeting?" If you could call coldly brushing each other off a meeting. "There's still one more teacher," the teen pointed out.

Chris looked off in thought. "The recital," he said.

"Guess we're going after all," Allison smarted, taking the lead back to the car. There was something that Isaac was missing there that he wasn't even going to begin to touch. He got up before Mr. Argent could give him a hand and followed with as much earnest as he could muster.

They all piled into Chris's car(closests, more roomy) and sped off towards the high school.

Isaac never realized how daring a driver any parent could be until there were lives on the line, but in any case, whether they crossed the speed limit four times and ran two red light or not, they made it to the school just as the recital was beginning. And, as Isaac should have expected, he had a hand planted square on his chest, barring him from going any further.

"You need to stay in the car, Isaac," Chris commanded. Getting fed up with this reaction to him going anywhere but a soft place, Isaac growled and bared his fangs. Chris didn't budge.

"Scare tactics don't work on me, son. Now go get in the car before I have to make you. And trust me, I will. I've been studying werewolves longer than you've been alive and I know all of your weak points. I can take you down without putting a scratch on you, and trust me when I say that's not something I want to do."

The wind began to howl in the trees and lightning struck the clouds above them. Isaac threw his arms out in exasperation.

"It's not even safe for me out here," he remarked. "I could be bowled over in this wind and you'd be to blame for making me stay out here." Isaac prided himself in his innate ability to go from innocent and unassuming to little shit in no time flat.

Mr. Argent looked around at the quickly worsening weather and sighed heavily.

"Alright," he called over the noise of nature's wrath, "but stay close and stay behind. Either that, or find your pack." And they were off, running after Allison with a mission.

Beacon Hills High School didn't have a proper auditorium; just a glorified gymnasium. The stage was too small for proper productions and the seating area just didn't seat enough people. There students and teachers spread out against the wall all over the room when the trio rushed in. Amongst those faces was Scott, who turned immediately to face them as soon as they walked in the door. He gave a quick nod to Allison and her father, but stopped at Isaac. The look his fellow beta gave him could be described as, "I'm disappointed that you didn't do what was best for you and stayed home." Or maybe that's just what Isaac wanted him to say. He returned with his own non-verbal version of, "I'm sorry, but I had no other choice."

The music was in poor taste. It was loud and in a violent, minor key. It sounded more of battle music than music in the name of fallen students and teachers. One would expect something like Amazing Grace or something equally as cheesy.

From the looks of it, everyone in the audience seemed to be thinking the same thing. Isaac caught snippets of conversations between friends and strangers, asking if this was the right night, what the director was thinking, who was running this.

The odd thing was that the piece kept getting more and more violent. The strings were out of sync and the pianist was pounding her fingers of and the director looked ready to hit something, but the worst part was the choir. That song- if you could call it that- was turning into low, breathy tribal chants. It sounded like a spell was being performed instead of a concert.

Mr. Argent and Isaac were positioned near the back, with Allison more towards the middle. The two hunters had the game faces on; they knew something was very wrong. Isaac had that feeling too, but it didn't quite solidify until he heard the unholy grating of screams and steel and the dead fill his sensitive ears.

It was louder than anything he'd ever heard, louder than his father's screams and deeper than his cuts. It came from everywhere and nowhere and Isaac had no shield from it. A quick glance around the room showed the other wolves were affected as well, but none of the humans.

Isaac pressed his fingers to his ear and bent his head low but nothing could evade the sound. It seemed to go on for years before it finally ended and the horrid music was in his head once more. He unclenched his jaw and opened his eyes, not remembering that he'd bit down or closed them in the first place.

"Isaac! Hey," Chris said forcefully. The hunters hands were on either one of Isaac's shoulders and he'd been shaking him. "what was that? What did you hear?" At the same time he was interrogating him, the hunter was giving Isaac a visual once-over.

Isaac shook his head. "I don't know," he replied, lowering his hands. They landed on his stomach, and for once, he didn't remove them. Instead, he felt around and furrowed his brow. Something was… different. "But whatever it was," he went on, meeting Chris's eye, "I don't think they liked it." He gestured to his stomach, where another cramp was building from the bottom up.

Mr. Argent's face changed. He looked… scared? Worried? Concerned, possibly, as he took a step back from the werewolf.

"What-" Isaac began, but was cut off as a snap was heard from the stage. He smelled it before he saw it; blood, lots of it. The pianist was on the ground with a waterfall of it coming from her throat. The crowd was in instant panic as they all saw in turn what had happened, and soon they were running in every direction to an exit.

"Allison!" Mr. Argent called. He ran towards his daughter, Isaac soon falling behind. It was getting hard to breathe.

The trio regrouped at the head of the stage, abandoned all for the pianist. Her back was to the crowd, so the orchestra must've gotten the brunt of the scene. The blood pooled around her body, drenching her clothes and running under the piano.

"The cord snapped," Chris deduced, his eyes flitting from one aspect to another. "Slashed her throat." He sounded tired. Even for a hunter, there was a limit for how many dead bodies you saw in a day. And judging by the lack of werewolves and law enforcement at the scene, they all had a feeling this wouldn't be the last one.

Isaac gripped the edge of the stage with hand so hard he got white knuckles. The other hand was pressed to the small of his back as he tried to balance himself on wobbly knees.

"Isaac?" Allison peered over at the werewolf as he struggled to stay upright. "Isaac-!" Immediately, the hunters were on either side of him. Allison looked afraid to touch, to get too close.

"Where does it hurt?" Chris asked coolly. When the teen didn't respond right away, Chris put a firm hand on his shoulder. "Isaac, tell me where it hurts. We've got a Darach running loose in the school that just killed two people; we don't really have the time to dawdle."

"Here," Isaac forced out between breaths. He moved the hand on his back to the base of his stomach. Chris pursed his lips and sighed.

"Thought so." He put Isaac's arm around his shoulders and helped the werewolf walk as he rode out the cramp. Allison followed suit and they both managed to get him out into the hallway.

Isaac hadn't been to school in a while, and with no explanation, so magically reappearing on the night of the recital with a hump must've confused a few of his fellow students. In that respect, the Argents tried to keep him away from the crowds as much as they could, shielding him with their bodies when they couldn't.

The plan, it seemed, was to get back to the car and get over to Deaton's, but that was quickly halted when the three of them got a look outside. It was a maelstrom of biblical proportions.

"Something tells me this wasn't it the forecast," Allison remarked, adjusting her hold on Isaac's arm. The cramp had long since passed, and the only reason the werewolf was still on their backs was simply because they wouldn't let go.

"Where are Stiles and Scott?" Isaac asked. "...Where's Lydia? Where's anybody?" He glanced from either of the two people supporting him as the exchanged glances. They hadn't thought about that just yet, it seemed.

"Isaac we're gonna have to set you down," said Chris, trying to lower the teen as gingerly as possible. Isaac shrugged off both arms and leaned against the wall himself.

"Pretty sure I can handle it," he snarked, giving them both a look.

"Allison, you go look for your friend," Mr. Argent pointed down the hall; Allison didn't need an incentive and was off like a bullet. "Isaac, try and get ahold of your pack; they'll have a better handle of the situation." He removed the gun from his waistband and held it menacingly. "I'm gonna go see what we can't do about this Darach."


	15. Lights Out

“Why do they even have phones if they never use them?” Isaac grumbled, flipping through his contacts to call Derek a third time.

No word yet, from Scott, Stiles, Derek, Mr. Argent-- he’d even tried calling Mrs. McCall, but to no avail. The storm was getting pretty bad out there.

The werewolf was huddled in a concave square in the wall where pay phones once hang until everyone got cellphones. Students and parents and teachers were still meandering about the halls. Questions that seemed to be on everyone’s lips were things like, where’s the ambulance, why aren’t there any police here yet, what’s going on. From Isaac’s understanding, multiple people had already called 911 and reported the incident. The storm must’ve what was holding back the authorities, and maybe even the hospital. For the moment, everyone was forced to batten down the hatches and--

“Isaac?”

Isaac looked up at the sound of his name and flinched. Danny towered above the crouching teen with a trumpet in his hand, looking confused and surprised.

“Oh, uh,” Isaac fumbled, “hey.” He fidgeted and did his best to cover his stomach with his coat.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Danny said, taking a seat on the ground next to Isaac. “Where’ve you been? You haven’t been to school in like, forever.”

I’ve been pregnant with the Alpha king’s twins and fighting a magical homicidal maniac. “Sick.”

“Oh. So I guess you’re better now, huh?”

“Oh, uh, no, not really.” Isaac coughed loudly to punctuate his fictional point. “I’m still very, very sick, and in fact, you should probably stay away from me if you don’t want to catch it.”

Danny laughed. “Nah, I never get sick, I’ll be fine.”

Isaac switched tactics. “So, um, why are you still here? You should go home, you know, with the storm and everything, the power could go out.”

Danny shook his head. “Can’t. Ethan was my ride here. So that means I’m stuck here… Until my mom can pick me up.” He tapped away at his phone, firing off messages. “Which, judging by the storm, is hopefully not anytime soon.”

Isaac himself was tirelessly working at his phone, trying to get any member of his pack to respond. He was starting to get worried; what if they’d gone after the Darach? Was Cora any better? And what was Peter up to while all this was going on? Isaac had a bad feeling about Derek’s mysterious uncle. He didn’t know much about him; only what Scott was willing to tell him, which was that he’d been mentally augmented in his injury from the Hale fire and become a homicidal maniac, killing and trying to get Scott to kill with him. Derek’d killed him to become the alpha, but Lydia brought him back after she’d rejected his bite. To Isaac, that didn’t exactly spell out “trustworthy.”

“What’s under your shirt?”

Isaac froze up. He should’ve expected this; you don’t just put on fifty some-odd pounds in the stomach and hope it goes unnoticed.

“Seriously, though,” Danny continued, “it looks like you’ve got a beach ball under there--” He reached for Isaac’s sweater and tried to yank it up, but Isaac caught his friend’s hand with speed that surprised even him.

“Don’t,” he warned promptly, loosening his grip on Danny’s wrist marginally. His fellow lacrosse player squinted and looked closely at his face.

“What’s up with your eyes?” he asked. Isaac blinked and realized that they must have turned gold without him knowing. He closed his eyes and shook his head, but he couldn’t find the words to explain. His odd behavior, augmented appearance, and the eyes, along with his disappearance was all too much to explain to Danny right that second--

And salvation came in the form of Allison Argent.

She came clicking down the hall of panicked students in her designer boots, sashaying in her short skirt and trenchcoat. Isaac watched her eyes flick around, assessing the situation with a trained calm about her.

“Danny, the band teacher’s looking for you in the lobby,” she made up on the spot-- Isaac heard her heartbeat jump a little as the words came out.

Their classmate jumped to his feet and spared one last confused glance for Isaac’s sake before jogging down the hall. As soon as he was out of sight and there were no more wandering eyes to be seen, Isaac allowed himself to let his legs sag and to breath deep again. Pressure was building at the bottom of his lungs and the seat of his pelvis, his stomach was roiling, and his neck was hot under his collar. Isaac had never felt so… pregnant.

“I can’t get ahold of Derek or Scott,” he reported, glancing once again at his inactive phone. “How’s Lydia?” He held up his hands in a silent plea to be helped up.

“She’s got bruising on her neck.” Allison obliged, grabbing hold and putting her weight into hefting him off the ground. “They’re taking her to a hospital downtown because Beacon Memorial’s being evacuated.”

Isaac glanced out the window. “The storm’s that bad?”

“It will be. And I overheard an EMT saying that the backup generators might be too old to last if the power goes out.”

“Beacon Memorial…” That sounded significant. Why did that sound significant? “That’s where Cora is, right?”

Mr. Argent came up the hall just then and laid a hand on his daughter’s back. “I’m taking the two of you home. Isaac, you’ll stay with us until this weather blows over.”

“No,” the werewolf protested, “no, I have to get to the hospital, I can’t leave Cora there with Peter.” He’d made the avid decision not to trust the creepy uncle. It didn’t matter that he had trouble walking or that there was a near-hurricane overhead; Cora was pack.

He was already heading down the hall, ready to brave the storm on his own if he needed to, when Chris called him back. The teen turned his head but didn’t venture back.

“If you want to lecture me about how I’m too weak or it’s too dangerous, save your breath,” he growled. “I’m sick of being treated like a child, alright?” He turned his back once more. “I don’t need your help. I’ll help Cora on my own.”

There was a hand on his shoulder now, pulling him into a doorway. “Isaac, I don’t think you’re grasping the gravity of the situation, here,” Chris rubbed a hand across his stubble is frustration. Allison joined them, keeping a watch out for any prying eyes.

“No, see, I do get, and it seems like that’s what everyone’s not grasping.” Isaac could feel his blood beginning to boil. “I get that there’s a Darach on the loose, and an Alpha pack, and the sky’s falling down, and I’m pregnant with twins. Alright? I get all that. No one seems to think I’m capable of anything, though; from day one, everyone’s been protecting me, when I can protect myself--”

“Isaac, listen to me, I can’t let you go--”

“No, you listen, I can handle myself, and right now, Cora’s in trouble--”

“Isaac!” Mr. Argent silenced the teen with a rough shove against the door. The hunter himself looked tired, and for once, Isaac noticed how old he looked for a man his age. “You know those pains that you’ve been having? The cramps?” He lowered his voice to a menacing volume. “They’re contractions. Isaac, I can’t let you go because you’re in labor.”

“...What?”

Chris banged his fist free of Isaac’s collar against the wall. “What do you not understand? You’re in labor for Christ’s sake, Isaac. I’m not going to let you go out there with your pups on their way.” For a millisecond, Isaac thought he saw the hunter’s face go soft, but when he blinked there was that hard, professional look.

The lights went out. The whole hall went dark, and soon, cries came wafting from other corridors; people were panicking. Isaac was beginning to join them.

Labor? That’s what he’d been feeling? But no, wasn’t it too soon? When did Ms. McCall say, or did she? Isaac had so many questions and so little breath to ask them. Suddenly the doorway was very cramped.

But then he remembered Cora. Cora, sick, dying, alone in an abandoned hospital with no one but Peter-the-wolf at her bedside. Derek’s sister, and part of the pack.

“I need,” Isaac said stubbornly, “to get to the hospital.” He pursed his lips. “I have to help Cora.”

Allison glanced back at the two as Chris sighed and let loose his grip on Isaac.

“I’ll drive.”


	16. Unprepared

Isaac hadn’t even begun to think about names.

In his mind, the twins’ arrival was always so far away, never getting any closer. He didn’t have anything prepared, come to think of it. No crib, no changing table, not even any clothes or bottles, and heaven forbid anything else babies need. They were coming into a world that was not only warring, but totally unprepared for them.

Thoughts like this only settle when the mind is idle or stressed; Isaac’s mind was in full supply of both as he and the Argents sped towards the hospital. The werewolf sat in the backseat, not taking his hands off his stomach for the first time since he learned he was pregnant. He ran his hands across the smooth, taut flesh, poking at his distended belly button and running his finger along the seam that had formed down the vertical center. Just as he was getting used to being like this, it would all be taken away.

No, he reminded himself, not taken away. He would be given something new. Something bigger, more magical. Ironic how all this was the fault of Death, Destroyer of Worlds.

The hospital was flickering when they braked to a halt in front. There was no need to find a parking place; the parking lot was virtually empty save for a couple of patient’s cars. The trio raced out into the storm.

“Looks like the evacuation’s over,” Chris observed over the roar of wind and rain. They paused in the doorway, all three assessing the potential threat of going in there.

“Are you catching a scent?” asked Allison. Isaac shook his head.

“No, not with the rain this heavy.”

The three exchanged glanced. It was either this or the storm, and they were no help when they were caught under fallen tree limbs or drowned in a flash flood.

The hospital it was.

As they journeyed down the hall, the commotion from the storm got quieter and quieter until it was no more than a low din. The only sounds worth noting were the squeaks of their boots and their breathing that rang like bells in Isaac’s ears. Chris had drawn his gun and held it defensively at his hip, ready to raise it in case of a threat.

After more than a few beats of agonizing silence, Chris cocked his gun. “I’m gonna take that as a sign you’re a little worried,” Isaac whispered.

Chris cast a hard glance back at the teenagers. “Stay close to me.” They kept moving.

Isaac trained his ears on any and all excess noise. The creak of the pipes, the jingle of their zippers, the hum of recently burned out light… footsteps?

“I think I heard something,” he gasped, stopping in his tracks. They all paused.

“Where?” Allison said in equally low tones. He pointed.

“Below us.” Dropping as low as he could to the cold floor, Isaac honed his senses on the basement level. There was scurrying, running, doors to a truck opening and closing, and a voice-- Scott’s voice.

“They’re down there with the ambulances,” Isaac concluded, raising an arm to be helped up(that was one thing he wasn’t going to miss). “C’mon.” He started jogging towards the stairwell, the Argent’s catching up behind him.

This wasn’t easy. Isaac was tired and hungry and his whole lower half ached. Running around chasing werewolves and druids didn’t do anything to make him feel better. After this was over, all he wanted to do was see Deaton and get this whole thing over with, maybe getting something to eat along the way. Eating for three was harder than Isaac had thought.

There were footsteps and voices around the corner. Isaac’s nose was still sullied from the rain, so he couldn’t smell who was approaching. It could’ve been Stiles. It could’ve also been the Darach. Chris gave him and Allison one look before raising his gun, still cocked. They rounded the corner--

It was Scott. Scott and his mother. A collective sigh of relief was let go as Chris lowered his weapon and both werewolves lowered their haunches.

“What are you guys doing here?” Scott asked, looking them over.

“Especially you, Isaac,” Ms. McCall piped up accusingly. She shoved her way in front of her son. “You shouldn’t be going anywhere other than Deaton’s this close to your due date; something could happen.” Allison and Mr. Argent exchanged knowing glances under the knowledge that something already did happen. Isaac’s eyes refused to meet hers as he scraped for an excuse.

“I-I had to make sure Cora was safe,” he stammered, “and we couldn’t just leave you guys here alone.” She sighed.

“Cora’s fine,” she offered. “The kids got her on an ambulance and she’s on her way to the hospital downtown.”

“Uh, actually,” Scott said, “the ambulance is still downstairs. The driver was kind of… murdered.” Everyone looked at the teen in disbelief. “Kali’s got the keys.” The bearer of bad news looked down at his shoes and pursed his lips.

“Well, where’s Derek?” Allison asked, fingering the knife in her belt. Scott sighed.

“Maybe it’s best I catch you up on a few things.”

 

* * *

 

The group gathered in an abandoned OR to talk shop.

“So, they’re essentially trapped.”

“Right.”

“Well, there’s no way of getting them out without turning the power back on.”

“Well, but wait, wait, wait, wait-- If the power’s back on, they’re gonna hear the elevator moving, right?”

“And they’ll be on Jennifer and Derek as soon as it stops.” Scott leveled Chris with a stare. “We can’t,” he emphasized, “get in a fight with them.”

“Well, you’ve got us now,” the hunter negotiated.

“It’s too much to risk. They want her dead, and if she’s dead there’s nothing we can do for Stiles’s dad or Cora. Plus, we have to Isaac out of here.”

“I don’t even think I know which teacher this is.”

“Oh, she’s,uh-- she’s the one with the brown hair-- she’s kinda hot.”

They all turned their gaze to Isaac. He gaped. “Oh, it’s, just an observation.” Killer or not, Jennifer was a piece of work that no one could deny. The fact that she was a psycho-maniac druid on a killing spree had little to no effect on her sexual prowess.

Everyone went silent as they all thought of a plan. Something to get the Alphas off their backs for a bit while they chided Jennifer into giving them Cora’s health and Stiles’s dad back. Allison kept her eyes trained on her reflection.

“I’ve got an idea.” She gestured to her head. “Brown hair.”

Chris shook his head. “No. No way. It’s not happening.”

“Well, what, do you have a better idea?”

He raised his gun. “I’ve got this.”

“Wait, what’s going on here? What’s your plan?” Ms. McCall put a hand on Chris’s wrist, urging him to lower his weapon.

“I’ve got brown hair,” Allison explained, “Jennifer’s got brown hair. It’s dark and there’s a storm messing with all the wolve’s senses. Maybe if I could pose as her for long enough, and lead the Alpha’s into a trap, you guys can get the rest to safety.”

The group considered it as Chris steamed. There really wasn’t time to come up with anything better; Cora was dying, and Scott was right; Isaac needed to get to Deaton’s before the twins decided to make an early appearance.

“Fine.” Chris slammed his gun down on the operating gurney. “Get ahold of Derek.”

 

* * *

 

Among other less desirable lessons, Isaac’s dad had eventually taught him how to drive. Of course, it was a significantly more violent and scarring experience than most teenagers experienced, but it was a crucial skill nonetheless. So while Scott was helping Stiles with Peter and Cora and the Argents were readying themselves to empty a couple of clips on the Alphas, Isaac squeezed himself behind the wheel of Chris’s van to be on getaway duty. He thanked his anatomy that his legs could still reach the pedals after making room for his overstretched belly.

He balanced his phone on a cup holder and waited for Allison to come back onto the video chat.

“You ready?” she asked her camera. Isaac took a deep breath.

“Yeah.”

She cocked her head, amused. “Not nervous, are you?”

He gave his screen a taken aback-look. “Do I look nervous?”

“No, not at all,” she replied, not convinced. Allison positioned her phone to face the front hallway.

“Did he look nervous?” Chris asked his daughter.

“Terrified.”

“Yeah, I can still hear you. Very, very clearly.”

Allison’s head dipped back into the picture. “Just go as soon as you see them, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I got it,” Isaac replied, feeling terrified.

After a quick clothing swap, Allison was decked out in Jennifer’s jacket and heels. Isaac had seen her silhouette from down the hall and she almost scared him into another contraction. He saw her now, running past the camera, with the Alpha twins hot on her tail. That was his cue to punch it.

Luckily, the storm had let up.

 

* * *

 

The Toyota rolled into the ambulance bunker, signaling to Stiles that it was safe. Texts had been traded in thorough detail, planning this escape down to the second. Gunshots could be heard overhead; the Argents were doing their part.

Peter shoved the doors open with his back, Stiles scurrying to keep up.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he mumbled furiously, trying to grab ahold of Cora’s legs as they slid off the stretcher.

“I got her,” Peter called, grabbing his niece and carrying her bridal style over to the van. Stiles flung open the door, letting them into the backseat, then swung in the passenger’s side himself.

“Drive, go!” he yelled, fumbling with his seatbelt for whatever reason; dark druids, a pack of angry Alpha werewolves, and Stiles was still worried about car safety. “Go, c’mon!” The sooner they got out with Jennifer, the sooner he got his dad back, safe.

But they weren’t driving.

Stiles twisted his body to confront Isaac. Only Isaac wasn’t there.

“Isaac…?” Stiles called weakly. The car was still running. The door unopened, locked. “Isaac!” The teen got back out of the car, looking on all sides of the vehicle for the young werewolf. No sign. Not even a scream.

“Isaac!!”


	17. The Cellar

When Isaac closed his eyes, it had been dark and it smelled like antiseptic and gasoline. He had been playing hero; he was the getaway. He was going to save Cora. Now, as he opened his eyes, it smelled like soil and old steel, and there was no car around him, no empty ambulances to navigate around.

He didn’t move for as long as he could bear. His head felt too heavy to lift and in the dim, filtered light, everything was out of focus. Doing a mental once-over, he found that his ears were ringing, his wrists ached, and his back pinched-- but other than that, he could move his legs, his sense his smell was intact, the twins--

The twins.

Isaac jolted upright(knocking his head on the wooden pole behind him), sprawling out his legs and blinking his eyes, forcing them to focus. He tried to move his hands, but they were tied behind him. He needed to know that his babies were alright.

“Isaac!”

The werewolf looked around in the dark and eventually saw Melissa, in a similar if not more exaggerated situation than he was. The Sheriff was there, too. They were both tied much more securely than he was; while his feet were free(save for his bound ankles), theirs were secured to their bodies in an almost torture-like fashion. The nurse looked like she’d called his name a few times before he noticed or was even fully conscious.

“Isaac, hey,” she repeated. She struggled against her bonds to get a good look at the teen. “Hey, listen to me. You need to calm down, alright? You’re gonna be fine--”

“Where is she?” Isaac asked.

“Gone,” the Sheriff replied. “And in a hurry, too. That’s why you’re still loose. Well, relatively.” He scrunched up his face and glanced over at Ms. McCall. “And why didn’t you tell me that male werewolves could get pregnant?”

Isaac gaped and shared a glance with Scott’s mom. She shrugged. “I’ve been trying to catch him up on the situation, as far as we know it, anyway, while you were unconscious.” She turned to the Stiles’s dad. “And amongst teen wolves, lizard people, dark druids, and a pack of Alphas, teen pregnancy must have slipped my mind.”

The Sheriff shrugged defensively. “I’ll just add it to my list of weird shit I didn’t know was happening in my town-- a list that seems to be growing every minute.”

Both adults sighed in resignation and returned to silence. Isaac licked his dry lips and went back to shifting against the pole, trying to get a feel of his restraints. He was only tied on the wrists and ankles, not to the pole or anything. He could stand if he wanted. He doubted he’d be able to with all his added girth, though.

Despite the chilling temperatures of late fall, Isaac was sweating under his collar. His body was warming up as the urge to move around forced him to squirm in place. There was anxiety building in his lower chest and pooling in his stomach. This couldn’t have meant anything good.

Melissa looked over right as Isaac felt another cramp beginning to take hold. She watched closely as he screwed his eyes shut, willing the pain to go away as it got stronger and more intense. Isaac let out a long moan, pushing his head against the beam and trying in any way he could to ease the pressure in his groin.

“Oh, God,” Melissa gasped, “Isaac?”

He opened his eyes just long enough to acknowledge her before focussing again on the cramp.

“Isaac, this is very important,” she said in a serious tone, “the pain that you’re feeling right now. Have you felt it before?”

Isaac nodded, taking deep breaths in and out. The cramp was slowly creeping away, leaving a dull ache in its wake. Melissa hummed nervously.

“Uh, okay, Isaac? What you’re feeling, they’re contractions. You--”

“I know.”

“...What? Excuse me, you know?”

Isaac nodded, his breathing now more controlled. “Mr. Argent. He told me.”

There was a heavy pause. “Isaac, how long have you been having contractions?”

He glanced over at her with a sympathetic wince. “Yesterday morning,” he mumbled. Judging by the light coming through the cellar door, it was at least noon. Ms. McCall looked up at the ceiling in frustration.

“And you still went to face Jennifer and the Alphas? Isaac, you should’ve gone to Deaton’s!”

“I had to make sure you and Cora were safe! I couldn’t just leave you there.”

“We had Scott, Allison, Stiles, Chris-- They could have handled it by themselves!”

“I’m not useless!!” Isaac shouted.

Melissa fell silent, but her face full of pity said all that needed to be said. He wasn’t. He wasn’t useless. He’d kept Allison safe when they were saving Mr. Westover. He helped to find the ambulances. He helped Stiles and Cora escape.

But now here he was, tied to a pole in a root cellar, waiting to be sacrificed to a demonic bitch with a garratt. With all three of them, she was finally able to commit all of the sacrifices. Whatever her reason was, she was winning. And Isaac was powerless to help stop her, or the Alphas. Whatever their reason was for being here couldn’t have been much better than Jennifer’s. There were still so many things they didn’t know, so many pieces missing.

“Isaac,” Ms. McCall, said calmly. “I know you want to help. I know you don’t like sitting around, watching your friends go into battle.” The werewolf turned to face her and saw her face was soft. “But you have much, much bigger things to worry about. You’re pregnant, Isaac. With twins! You have two little babies and their wellbeing to worry about, now. Let your pack take care of the fighting.” She smiled and suddenly Isaac was struck with the thought that she’d been in his place before; pregnant with Scott and wanting to work at the hospital, to help people, to save them; but the ER was no place for a pregnant nurse, just like a battlefield was no place for a pregnant werewolf.

Isaac looked down at his knees, or what he could still see of his knees. He’d been acting selfish; only thinking of how he could help, what he could do, when what he should have been worried about was his own safety, not just for his sake. What he needed to do was rest. To get prepared. He hadn’t even begun to think of names.

Isaac cringed; his body was tightening and cramping. He drew his legs up and groaned. It was too soon; he’d only just had a contraction. Something was wrong.

“What’s--” the werewolf gasped, “what’s going on?”

“The space between contractions is getting smaller,” Melissa explained. “Soon, the contractions themselves will last longer.” She took a deep breath; she was nervous. “Then, your water will break. Your cervix will dilate, and…”

She dropped off into a worrying silence. Isaac gritted his teeth and bit back a moan.

“And?” he asked, having to force the words out. “And what?”

“And then it’ll be time for the babies to be born,” finished the sheriff. The other two stared at him. “What?” he asked. “It’s not like I’ve never seen a woman in labor before. I have a child, you know.”

“So… how long will that take?” Isaac asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. “How long until…?”

“Typically, from what I see at the hospital,” Ms. McCall replied, “I’d say you only have a few hours.”

A few hours. The pack could find them in a few hours, right? They’d notice he was gone. They’d scent him out. Come looking for him. They’d get him to Deaton’s.

Hopefully before it was too late.

 

 


	18. Captives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha... been a while, huh (ヾ;￣▽￣)ヾ

“So, Scott’s… the alpha?”

“No, Scott’s a beta. Derek’s an alpha.”

“But not part of the Alpha pack?”

“Right.”

“Although, Scott’s got something going on where he might be an alpha.”

“So he’s… sort of an alpha?”

“Sort of. Maybe.”   
“He’d make a better alpha than Derek, anyway.”

Six hours and several excruciating contractions later, there was neither hide nor hair of Jennifer or the pack. Melissa enlisted Isaac in helping her explain all the supernatural creatures and subsequent events in the town. Werewolves, Kanima, druids, hunters, and now the Darach.

Sheriff Stilinski sighed and shook his head. “All this time, I was sharing a town with werewolves,” he mumbled, “werewolves and God knows what else.”

It was a lot to take in. The sheriff had spent a good part of life dedicating his life to protecting Beacon Hills from crime, and now he was just realizing that he’d only scratched the surface.

The waning sunlight was shining through the cracks in the cellar door. The full moon would be on the rise soon, and that meant that, unless someone did something, bad things were about to happen. Jennifer was building up strength for something, the Alphas were gathering their resources; meanwhile, the good guys were all either helpless teenagers or they were locked up in a cellar. At least Chris was still out there.

At least, they thought he was.

The door flew open, flooding the cramped room with pale light and disturbing the dust with a gale. Jennifer stood at the top of the stair, silhouetted by storm clouds, no doubt of her own making. She dragged what sounded like a body behind her with disproportionate strength for a woman her size. As Isaac honed his hearing, he recognized the shallow breathing of one Chris Argent, unconscious.

There was a frustrated silence as the teacher from hell tied the hunter to a pole. Where she got all this rope from, one could only guess. The other three didn’t dare say anything; any plead they could make would fall on deaf ears, anyhow. Plus, they were all preoccupied with the fact that now that Jennifer had all three sacrifices plus one, there was nothing stopping her from slaughtering them all right then.

Once Chris was bound like the other two adults, Jennifer wasted no time in relieving the hunter of his hidden arsenal of well-concealed sharp weapons. She then took a step back and admired her handiwork. They all caught the smirk she threw around the room before leaving the cellar as silently as she came.

All three breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the howling wind was shut out.

“Jesus,” the Sheriff gasped, “well, there goes one of our few chances of rescue.”

“Scott will find us,” Isaac said with wavering confidence. Scott always saved the day. Scott would find them.

It wasn’t long before Mr. Argent woke up. He seized, gasping for air, getting his bearings. As his sight adjusted, he assessed his surroundings.

“You okay over there?” the Sheriff asked. No response, just panicked breathing.

“Chris?” Melissa chided gently. “It’s Chris, right?”

Chris nodded. Finally, it seemed like he was conscious enough to get a handle on the situation; he took a good look around the cellar. He laughed; then he groaned.

The Sheriff read his body language and furrowed his brow helplessly. “Is it just me, or has somebody been here before…?”

“Years ago,” the hunter replied. He began twisting in his binds, trying to get at his boot.

“Hate to disappoint you, but, uh, we watched her take your ankle knife.”

Chris twisted the other way.

“And the knife that’s in your sleeve,” Ms. McCall added.

Chris writhed angrily.

“And the switchblade in your other sleeve,” Isaac finished. It was then that the hunter finally noticed the werewolf’s presence, and seemed like he was about to go off, but he never got the chance. 

Jennifer was back.

“And the taser in your jacket pocket,” she teased, descending the dangerously rotted flight of stairs. They all craned their necks to watch as the druid played her taunting game with Chris. She mopped at his bleeding forehead, feigning concern as she spouted off her righteous sacrificial bullshit.

“Think about what you’re doing,” she preached, “you are making this town, even this world, safer for your children. Ah, well,” she turned slowly on her heels to cast a sinister glance at Melissa, “most of them.” She turned to Isaac as well. “I can’t say much for teenage wolves, or their offspring.”

Ignoring a warning look from Melissa, Isaac growled, baring his fangs and struggling against his bonds.

“If it’s a sacrifice you want,” the teen snarled, “Why don’t you just give your own life? I’m sure the Nemeton would love a taste of your blood.”

Jennifer Blake laughed and it was cold and heartless. “I’m sure this tree has already drunk its fill of my blood. No,” she stood and stalked over to Isaac, “what it needs,” and traced her long fingernails along his throat, “is a little taste of the supernatural.”

She strode back up the creaking stair, leaving that laugh ringing in Isaac’s ears.

As the door closed once more, they all let out a breath none of them knew they were holding. Isaac felt anger rise in his chest and wanted to break his bonds right then and there; chase down the witch and spill her lifeblood across the leaves. But the ropes were tight, and Jennifer was long gone.

The twins protested in their own way; as another contraction tightened across his belly, they kicked hard at his insides. He moaned loudly, laying his head back and trying to lower his heart rate-- Jennifer had sent it racing.

Chris turned his way. “Still?”

“Yeah, it-aaaahhh!” Isaac winced, hunching his shoulders and letting out a low whine. “They’re-- they’re getting… worse…” he panted. There wasn’t much time between the contractions, and now they were starting to get longer in length.

“Isaac, just hang in there, alright?” Melissa soothed. “You’re gonna be okay. It’ll all be okay.” None of them, not even her, could tell if she was speaking solely about Isaac in that last statement. It seemed all of them needed a little encouragement.

Isaac shook his head, his eyes shut tight against the pain. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he said, voice ridden with worry and anguish.

After the werewolf’s breathing finally slowed to a somewhat normal pace, they all fell into a silence. They were all thinking about their children in one way or another. Melissa, the Sheriff, and Mr. Argent were all worried about their children on the outside, fighting the bad guys. Isaac was thinking about his twins. His little werewolves, about to come into the world while there was a war going on. Who knew if they would even survive being born in a cellar; who knew if Isaac would survive?

At one point, the silence got so loud that they all felt someone had to break it. None of them, however, wanted to. There was nothing to say. So Chris started squirming again. He pulled and writhed in his ropes until he was out of breath.

Melissa sighed. “I don’t wanna kill your optimism or anything, but, y’know, we’ve all been trying to do the exact same thing for hours.”

Chris huffed in frustration and impatience. He tried wriggling from another angle.

“You been tied up before?” the Sheriff asked. Oddly enough, it wasn’t that strange a question when you were talking to a someone of his profession.

“Many times,” said hunter answered, still trying his luck with the ropes.

“Is that, uh… part of being a werewolf hunter?”

Chris froze. He looked to Melissa, who shrugged playfully.

“I tried to download him on as much as I could,” she explained.

“Yeah, I was starting to feel a bit left out.”

“And I suppose she also got you up to speed with Isaac’s situation?” The hunter turned menacingly to the teen. Isaac was wondering when the reprimand would come; the ‘I told you so’ speech, the ‘what were you thinking’ lecture. Chris was staring daggers in the teen’s direction.

“Yes, I’m caught up,” the Sheriff said, trying to pull Chris’s attention.

“Then you know how foolish he is for getting involved,” the hunter continued, undiverted, “in something way out of his depth, when he was told repeatedly to stay behind.”

“You wanted me to stay behind and do nothing while Cora and everybody else was in danger!” Isaac knew he was just digging his own grave by arguing, but he had to defend his choices. He had just been doing what he thought was right.

“And look at where it got you!” Chris retorted. “In an underground cellar, about to either give birth, or be sacrificed.”

“I’m not losing anyone else!” Isaac cried. “Look what happened when no one helped Erica and Boyle. Look what happened when no one helped  _ me!  _ I can’t sit back and watch while everyone is so caught up in their own bullshit that we watch another person die!”

The young werewolf’s voice diminished until it broke. He refused to cry, it would only further exaggerate his weakness, but he could let himself be frustrated. Frustrated with himself, with Chris, with every extenuating circumstance that had gotten him here.

He could feel the pity from Melissa and the Sheriff wash over him like a tidal wave, and he hated it. He didn’t want their sympathy-- after all, it wasn’t sympathy that would get them out of this mess. Chris, on the other hand, was working on something that might.

Out of God-knows-where, he pulled what looked like a thumbdrive.

“What is that?” asked Melissa, her hope rising again.

“Ultrasonic emitter,” he answered, “smaller version of what we use to corral werewolves. Only they hear it. Most of the time, we use it to push them away. Let’s see if it works to attract them.”

He gave Isaac a pointed look, and the teenager sniffed. The idea that Chris thought someone was coming for them was laughable-- half of his pack was miles away, probably busy fighting Deucalion, Derek was holed up downtown feeling sorry for himself, Corra was dying, and Peter was useless. Besides, what if the sonic wave attracted the wrong kind of werewolf? The last thing they needed was an--

“AAAAHH!!” Isaac screamed as a deafening wail hit him like a wall.

“Isaac!!” the Sheriff and Melissa cried

The nurse struggled at her bonds, and she wasn’t the only one; every muscle in Isaac’s body was tensed, and before he knew it, his arms broke free of the rope binding his wrists. He’d transformed, his eyes wide and blazing yellow. He kept screaming, his palms pressed to his ears, but he couldn’t block out the horrible noise. 

And suddenly, it stopped. 

Chris tossed the ultrasonic emitter away. “Well, that didn’t work.”

But the damage was done. Just like Lydia’s scream, the noise had triggered another contraction, and Isaac was clenching his fanged teeth. With his hands free, he hugged his cramping midsection, his still-tied feet kicking and writhing. His muscles seized, draining what little energy was left in his body.

Isaac let out a throat-burning scream.

_ Scott… Allison… anybody,  _ he thought as his consciousness faded,  _ please hurry... _


End file.
